


Recite Your Vows

by HaveMyWeedCookies



Category: One Piece
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, M/M, Post-Canon, Romance, ZoSan - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2019-12-26 05:39:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 58,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18276902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaveMyWeedCookies/pseuds/HaveMyWeedCookies
Summary: The cook would fight anyone who dared to show a tiny bit of disrespect towards the swordsman, and those who insulted the cook’s honor would get cut for the very same reason.Or, a story of two oblivious idiots who had no idea that they had been married all along. The friends and families were running out of patience waiting for them to finally become official. Luffy only cared about the wedding cake, though.





	1. Chapter 1

1.

5 years ago, the Strawhat pirate finally disbanded. They had accomplished their dreams and now the time had come when everyone had to continue the new chapter of their lives on their own.

It was during the midday where the sky was clear of clouds and the sea was never bluer. There was no island on sight, just them and the wide open ocean, when Luffy announced the disbandment, he was standing on the lion’s head, eyes hiding by the shade of his straw hat as he told them to go back to their people, simple and calm as if he just commented on the weather and not about to disband the most powerful pirate band in the world. No one protested him. They all had matured enough to say goodbye when the dream ended.

“Sanji, we have to have the greatest feast ever!” After giving his speech, the captain specifically addressed to the cook, he had the same childish smile. And Sanji couldn’t help but fulfill perhaps his captain’s last command to him. After this, Luffy would continue to sail the sea, the renowned pirate king’s heart was still beating with a yearn for adventures but from now on he and the crew would sail no longer under the band of the Strawhat.

 

2.

The first to disembark was their archaeologist, Nico Robin. Everyone was surprised by her request to be dropped off at the Alabasta Kingdom. Robin smiled faintly as she explained that she still owned the princess and her citizens an apology. Despite everyone trying to reassure Robin that Vivi had forgiven her a long time ago, the archaeologist insisted to make amends. So, the Strawhats took this chance to visit their friends at the kingdom before saying goodbye to Robin.

 _Perhaps, it was for the best,_ mused Sanji.

The archaeologist had been searching for her true family for a long time and on the way had been forced to hurt many innocents to survive. He could empathize with Robin-chan’s wish for atonement. In this way, Robin might finally let go of her last ounce of guilt and self-hatred. He trusted that Vivi-chan would welcome Robin warmly. The older woman had no island to call home anymore. Beside the Sunny, Alabasta could become her permanent residence if she so chose.

 

The next to follow after Robin’s departure was Chopper.

When they reached Drum Island, the little doctor insisted he wouldn’t cry because he was an adult now. But clearly, he was trying hard to hold back his tear and was going to self-suffocate soon. The crew sent an accusing glare to the Marimo, the sole source of bad influence on Chopper’s understanding of masculinity. The swordsman let out a sigh as he knelt before the little reindeer and pat his head gently. After Zoro told him it was okay for a man to cry manly tear that Chopper let out a long wail and wet the Marimo’s green coat with his tear and snot.

Still, their best doctor disappeared into the island’s eternal snow with a big smile, even his eyes were little puffy.

They continued the sail to the last natural barricade that separated Grand Line from the four Blues. At the small island where there was the waiting scarred whale, Brook politely asked to depart. Everyone knew the reason and Brook was ready. He had been waiting for this moment for decades. 

Laboon made the happiest call, and the skeleton musician sent the Sunny off with Binge Sake. It was one of his best play, the song of gratitude.

It was just the six of them on the Sunny now.

 

Usopp’s face lighted up instantly when he saw Kaya and the island’s children waiting for the Sunny to dock.

To others, Usopp was the bravest warrior of the sea now, but to his Nakama, they still saw in him a linger of awkwardness from his youth that he hadn't managed to grow out. He still cried his heart out and told lies. 

But no longer was he a weak.

Usopp’s dream was that he could become a person he could be proud of. There were no tangible things awaiting him at the end, to let him know that his dream was completed. He had to constantly battle with his weakness. He had work the hardest of them all. Seeing his confident smile now as he was embracing the woman he loved whom he promised to become strong for, Sanji couldn’t help but be happy with his triumph.

_So long, long-nosed kun._

 

Nami stayed on the ship. After a stop at her island to catch up with her sister, Nami-san decided she would continue to sail with Luffy.

“I can work on my map anywhere and to sail around the world again is a good opportunity to go back to the old map to correct minor mistakes. I want it to be perfect,” Nami explained, patting the excited Luffy’s head to calm him down. Nami and Luffy had shared one of the most special bond with each other. Sanji should be jealous of the rubber bastard, but he couldn't. It was unfortunate that he loved them both equally and If there was anyone he trusted to look after Luffy, it would be Nami, and vice versa. 

“Adventure!” Luffy shouted.

“An adventure promises more treasure!” Nami’s eyes gave out berry sign.

“Super! I will stay on the ship too!” Franky chorused.

Everyone turned to look at him. The cyborg shrugged, “A shipwright stays with his ship. Besides, I don’t trust Luffy not to sink my precious Sunny. Nami-sis might supervise him but she is going to be busy with her map!”

The new trio patted each other's shoulders, excited for their new journey.

Seeing them this happy made Sanji want to announce that he too would stay on the ship, for Nami-swan’s sake of course, but he was no longer a hormonal brat and shouldn't be acting childish in front of Nami-san, so he quietly excused himself to his kitchen to prepare food for the remaining crews. It would last them a week after his departure if they weren’t too glutton. Each departing member got Sanji’s pirate bento boxes of their favorites. The Marimo would disembark shortly after him so he made him his bento as well. It was his last duty as their cook, anyway.

In the evening, Nami-san came to tell him in the kitchen that they would be reaching the Baratie within the next day. He thanked her as he always did.

Sanji chose to sleep in the kitchen that night.

 

3.

The familiar floating establishment was still going strong like some stubborn old man he had known so well.

Sanji made sure that the kitchen and the galley were in their best condition and everything was in the right place, including his cooking recipe which was placed neatly on the galley's table, so Nami-san wouldn’t have a problem much in feeding that bottomless rubber man.

The Baratie’s docking board was void of people; they might be busy inside the restaurant to notice the lion-headed ship coming to their way which actually wasn’t a surprise. Sanji didn’t send a messenger bird to inform the old man that he would come. It wasn't like the old man wanted to throw a welcome-back party for him anyway. He would bark at Sanji to get back to work, that was more like the old geezer.

With his duffel bag in one hand, a leather bag of his beloved knives in the other, Sanji turned to see the crew who had gathered on board of the Sunny to send him off, everyone was there except the certain swordsman. The idiot might still be asleep on the crow nest, the insensible Neanderthal.

“You’ve got everything, right? ‘Cause I will not turn the ship back to return it to you,” Nami said. She was so beautiful, he couldn’t resist but to drop his belongings and gave her the love-cook’s noodle dance. She rolled her eyes but couldn’t find in herself to be annoyed. To be honest, she hadn’t been for a long time but for the sake of keeping the tradition, she scolded him to stop his perversion anyway.

“I’ve got everything, don’t worry, Nami-swann <3” replied the cook. He pressed his hand on his breast pocket where he kept his precious navigator’s map to the All Blue and smiled at his crewmates. “If you all have time, come to the All Blue – that is where the Baratie will be heading to, and where it is to stay!”

“Will I have the largest slice of the cake!?” Luffy yelled, eyes shining with excitement. And back then, Sanji had no clue what he was babbling about. Luffy usually loved meat more than sweets. But he just tossed it into the mental category of his captain being a weirdo. 

After a few exchanges of threats with the guys that they would take good care of Nami-san for him, Sanji decided it was time to get going.

 _I guess he will not come down to see me off, then_. Sanji shook his head. He knew Zoro was not a big fan of emotions and he refused to feel a pang of heartache for not being able to see the moss one last time.

“Oi, Luffy,”

“Hmm, what is it, Sanji?”

The two strangers, they had become something more because of meeting with Luffy. The unfortunate turn of fate that he was secretly grateful for because he couldn’t hope that their paths would cross for the second time.

_We might not see each other again for the rest of their lives, you moron._

Sanji lit up a cig like he always did when he was hesitating. A pause to inhale the smoke always helped clear his head as he made up his mind.

“Just—you will always be my Captain, remember that. If you need me, I will be there.” Luffy’s eyes were shining too brightly. Sanji hurriedly added, “Emergency only, asshole. Meat running out doesn’t count!”

“Boo. You are stingy, Sanji.” Deflated but quickly bounced back to his cheerful self, Luffy grinned, “I will miss you both!!”

Sadly, Sanji didn’t hear his last sentence. The cook already jumped off the ship.

 

4.

He had watched the Sunny getting smaller and smaller from the Baratie’s docking board, cracked a humorless smile and finished his smoke so he could get inside the patio where the Marimo was tapping his booth impatiently, on his side sit the bento that Sanji had made last night.

“Took you fucking long. Have you got lost on the way, Curly?” Grumbled the waiting moss.

“Shut up!! I will not be insulted by you with your fuck-up sense of direction!” Sanji shouted back automatically.

Wait.

...The moss was here. On Baratie.

What.

“What the fuck are you doing here, you prehistoric seaweed!?” Sanji shrieked as the moss gave him an unimpressed stare.

Then realization dawned on the chef.

“Fuck, you direction-challenged ass got lost again, didn’t you?! Did you try to find a toilet or something—Wait! The Sunny is gone!”

“Oi, Cook, calm your tits. I…” Zoro’s attempt to explain got cut out by the sound of water spat as the cook suddenly jumped into the sea below. In his panic, the desperate man must have forgotten that he could fly and opted to swim to get to the ship.

“Nami-swannnn! Please come back to collect the moss!!”

“Idiot,” The swordsman muttered.

Now he had to wait for Curly to come to his sense that he could skywalk, and that would be too late for him to reach the Sunny. In short, he would be sitting here for a while. So, Zoro decided to help himself with the blonde’s pirate bento. Seeing his favorite onigiri balls displaying on the lunch box, Zoro hummed, pleased.

 

5.

Zoro’s good mood was ruined immediately after the soaking blonde climbed back on the ship and started screaming at him like a banshee.

“If you have fucking stood still for a minute and let me explain to you, you wouldn’t have been soaking wet like a dirty rag. This is your idiocy’s fault, shit cook. Not mine.” Zoro argued calmly, still having no fucking idea what he had done wrong to piss the cook off. Zoro didn’t force him to swim, why blame him, the unreasonable bastard.

Sanji, still dripping wet, managed to look on fire.

“Get out of my ship!!!”

“This isn’t your ship!!!. And you are in no position to boss me around, shit cook.”

Sanji was frustrated. He didn’t understand it at all, even Zoro told him that he wasn't lost and chose to disembark on the Baratie by his own free will. The Marimo had failed to clarify to him why he decided to be dropped off with Sanji, of all people.

“I don’t get it. What are you doing here? What do you want, you moss?” So, he asked and then saw something interesting.

Zoro stubbornly kept his mouth shut, crossed his chest, refused to meet his eyes, and glared at anything but Sanji. He looked agitated by the most neutral and logical question. And you see, Sanji had been there through the Marimo’s evolution. The swordsman’s body language was switching between nonchalance and the offensive stream nowadays. It was rarer for Zoro to take a defensive stand, that, unless the marimo was guilty, or hiding something, or both.

Sanji narrowed his eyes.

He could throttle the man and squeeze the truth out of him right here, right now. But Sanji was wet, and cold, and tired; a crowd of nosy customers and waiters was starting to gather. It wouldn’t be long till Patty and Carne heard about the fuss and came to goad at Sanji and he refused to be a laughing stock to the assholes on the first day he came home. Farewell, his plan for grandeur return, no thanks to the Marimo. Now it was time for damage control.

Heaving out a sigh, Sanji gestured the swordsman to follow him inside the floating restaurant. He had so much explanation to do.

 

6.

Zoro refused to leave the Baratie for whatever reason that the moss refused to give to the cook.

Sanji gave up and let him do as he pleased. There were more important issues that needed Sanji’s attention than gardening a moss anyway.

And five years had rolled by.

 

7.

Zoro disappeared from time to time like a stray cat. His absence was short-lived and before Sanji knew that the Marimo was gone, he was back to demand feeding again.

The longest disappearance of him was the two months which he had paid a visit to his childhood friend’s grave. It was the only time that he told Sanji when he was going to wander. Sanji was busying with the arrangement to move the Baratie to All Blue at that time.

“If you don’t come back on time, we will leave without you, asshole.”

It was annoyance and exhaustion from fighting about every single detail with shitty Zeff that made him say that to Zoro who just growled back and disappeared.

He didn’t think about anything until he got back to his bedroom, bone-tired, only to find that the shitty Marimo had foolishly forgotten his two swords, Shusui, and Kitetsu on Sanji’s fucking bed.

Needless to say, Sanji was pissed. The shitty bastard would never find his own way to the All Blue, that meaned Sanji would have no choice but to wait to return them to the swordsman. How could this be happening to him? How dare he did compromise Sanji’s plan by his recklessness and stupidity? He placed the swords on the side of his bed, he would toss them into the sea tomorrow.

"Don't worry. When he comes back, he will be on the sea floor with you."

 

Sanji had spent every day to keep the swords oiled and sharp for their irresponsible master as if he wasn’t busy enough.

“When that bastard come back, I will, oh, I will definitely fillet and feed him to the old geezer. That two has turned my life a living hell,” Sanji revealed his sinister plan to Shusui while carefully wiping the blade with an oilcloth. he got comfortable enough to unburden his shitty days with the sword. It way better behaved than the other, Kitetsu, the temperamental sword which hadn’t stopped trying to cut Sanji since day one, even he was the one who was keeping it away from rust, ungrateful like its master.

“When I kill him, you will need a new master. I believe Wano would be pleased to have you back or you still could go to that beautiful marine lady. But not you,” He addressed Kitetsu which was laid innocently on Sanji’s bed. Sanji glared at him. “You go to the bottom of the ocean.”

 

The Marimo, miraculously, came back on the very last minute of the departure. “You were late!” Sanji poked at his chest. The beast glowered back and made a beeline to collect his swords from Sanji’s bedroom. The first thing he did was to unsheathe and examine each of them, uncaring that the cook was still watching; he just wanted the Marimo to get out of his room and was not feeling anxious at all about what he might think of Sanji's sword-maintenance skills. Zoro might notice something when his eyes widened a little. He had that unreadable expression but said nothing.

“The next time, I will toss them overboard.” Sanji threatened.

“And I will sink this ship, shit cook.” The ungrateful swordsman fired back.

 

8.

It was the eighth month since the Baratie had its first opening day on the All Blue, almost a year that a certain swordsman had stayed on the restaurant.

A lot of things had happened like Sanji becoming the owner and head chef of the restaurant.

Sanji was working in his office. It was a peaceful day with him and his paperwork. But today, Sanji felt optimistic that he could clear his administrating duty and go help in the kitchen. Of course, the old man chose this moment to annoy him.

Zeff put his peg leg on the desk, demanding Sanji’s attention. “The swordsman of your, is he staying for good, Eggplant?”

Sanji removed his reading glasses and furrowed his brows at the senile old man. “What are you talking about, old geezer? How the hell do I know?”

Zeff decided it would be wise for him to sit down on a chair because talking sense into the stupid Eggplant might take time.

“What was the last time you visit the kitchen, boy?”

“A month ago, I think? Look, if you retired ass care enough to help me with these shitty papers, I won’t be stuck in here all day. But I make sure the moss doesn’t cause a problem, so what’s the fuss?”

“It isn’t my fault that you suck, you brat. But a chef’s place is at his kitchen for a reason, that he is to keep his eyes on his cooks.” Zeff said sagely, “Your ‘staffs’ have been wondering why are they working their asses off, but that swordsman does nothing all day but still being pampered by you.”

“What do they expect me to do, force him to work? That’s ridiculous." Sanji shuddered at the idea. "The Marimo can’t cook, clean, wait or run errands without getting lost! And I DIDN’T pamper him. The alcoholic moss will go rampage without three meals and booze. If anything, I’m protecting the ship.”

Zeff shrugged, “I don’t care for your shitty reason to coddle him. What that matters is that you aren’t setting a very good precedent. Rumors are like fishes, shitty Eggplant. If they stay too long, they rot. Either you give him a shitty job to shut that rumor mill down or you better show them why he is a fucking exception.”

Sanji pursed his lips, a little hurt that his new crew didn't have trust in him as much as they trusted Zeff. The staffs were questioning his leadership, huh,  He might have been absent from the kitchen far too long. There were many new faces on the kitchen that he didn’t recognize; they were recruited after him becoming the head chef. He guessed it was the new lot that ran their mouth off, they weren’t there when the Merry docked and knew who the Strawhats were to this restaurant. 

“Ah, I think I did overhear one bastard said the swordsman was useless too,” Zeff commented evenly.

At that, Sanji abruptly stood up.

“I suppose in my busyness, I have failed to train the newly lot the art of tending a marimo. Alright then, I will go to give them a ‘reason’.”

Zeff quickly hid his victorious smile.

 

From what Patty described to him later, the young head chef did make his point understood in the most unforgettable way. The blonde marched straight into the kitchen, his presence was more than enough to make the staffs stop their works and gather. Sanji placed his leg on one of the cooking stations, the cooks saw how it heated up, glowering red like the leg of the devil himself and with a swift move, he cut the kitchen station in half as easy as he was cutting butter.

If anyone had doubts what this was all about, at this point he would be crystal-clear now that their head chef, the Black-Leg, was fucking furious.

“The Marimo might be as useless as a ballast. But he is an honorable ballast of my restaurant. Got it? Those who are doubtful of my authority here, feel free to meet me at the landing board outside, so I could toss them overboard. Or so help me get back to your damn work, you nosy bastards!!!”

 _That’s my boy._ Zeff gave out a proud smirk. The owner’s word was the law; don’t like it, then piss off. He had been worried about the Eggplant taking over the business. He might be stronger than Zeff, but he was so inexperienced in dealing with unruly subordinates and being a member of a pirate ship that abandoned hierarchy didn't help his case at all. He knew the Eggplant would let the gossip about himself go, he wouldn’t do anything when they badmouthed him, always too kind for his own damn good. Attacks on his friends, precisely a certain greenhead, on the other hand, would make him boiling. It was a godsend push to have the boy finally fucking act.

“He was fucking terrifying.” Patty chuckled, “I saw a few newbies pissed themselves.”

Zeff snorted.

“But really, a ballast? How fucking hard it is to just say ‘he is my partner, now fuck off’.”

As Zeff suspected, the Eggplant had no brain.

 

9.

Two years after the disbandment, Zoro’s hair had been getting ridiculously long, he was more like a lawn of seaweed than a marimo now, so Sanji offered out of his kind heart, to cut it for him. He expected Zoro to deny but surprisingly, he accepted.

So, here they were, in Sanji’s bathroom, (the Marimo's guestroom didn't have a bathroom, he had been using Sanji's during his stay), Zoro sit obediently on a chair facing the wall, naked from the waist up and completely at Sanji's mercy. The swordsman had his eye closed and let cook trim his hair as he pleased.

“Your hair is soft,” The cook said, his tone accusing. “Have you been using my shampoo, Marimo?”

“Why would the hell I want to steal the shampoo that smells disgustingly sweet? It’s like trying to get clean with sugar,” snorted the caveman whose knowledge of hygiene consisted of a soap bar and a weekly bath.

“Don’t insult the hand that feeds you and is tending your green garden right now, idiot. I could kill you.” Sanji warned. Zoro made an annoying sound in his throat and went silent.

“Hey, Zoro.” Zoro was quiet. Either he was listening or he fell asleep, Sanji was in the mood for conversations. “This is really weird. Surreal. I mean us. Spending our retirement together. Could you believe it?”

“What are you talking about? You are still working like a maniac, shitty cook.”

The cook’s hands were working on the swordsman’s head, nimble fingers gently combed knots for a scissor to make a precise cut. Then, he spoke,

“Don’t play stupid. And of course, I have to work! I have a whole crew plus a moss to feed.”

“Just admit that you are a pervert, a chain smoker and now a workaholic.”

“I will admit no such thing and you know what I meant about the retirement. I never expected that we would get what we have dreamed of this fast. I used to believe that this was a life-long quest, that we would go grey before finding the One Piece, and I had been prepared for that..." With a hesitant pause, Sanji continued, " I was so convinced that either you or I, or the both of us, would die trying to make Luffy the pirate king.” Sanji finished in a soft whispering tone.

 

Zoro opened his eye but the cook didn't see it.

He understood what the blonde was trying to say.

They had prepared to spend the rest of their lives for the crew, even to give up their dreams or their lives for them. To the point that they had forgotten to plan how to live by their own afterward when there was no crew to protect.

 

"Scissor." Zoro opened his hand, one eye looking intensely at the scissor on Sanji's hand.

"What?" Sanji asked. He just finished trimming the moss. Was the swordsman not satisfied with the result? Well, he could piss off.

"Give me your scissor," repeated the moss in a full sentence. Sanji held the scissor tighter. "But why?"

"I can cut that dried straw for you. It's getting long too." Zoro pointed at Sanji's hair which he kept in a low ponytail. Realizing the Marimo's true intention, Sanji was horrified. "Don't you dare come closer to me."

"What? So you did get to cut my hair but I can't? This is unfair," he huffed, being petulant.

"It isn't about fairness, Marimo-kun. It's about aesthetics which you do not possess. Now, shoo. Go fishing or nap, whatever you do in your free time."

"Fishing. I can't take a nap, your old man never stops nagging me."  Oh, that was how the old geezer choose to spend his time on when wasn't trading insults with Sanji, annoying Zoro? He could live with that.

"Oh great. I think yesterday we had such a good catch. There was a Blue-Finned Elephant Tuna too. Trying to catch something interesting like that, Marimo."

Somehow, Zoro's scowl had gotten deeper. The swordsman turned his back and stomped off the room, muttered angrily to himself.

"Tsk, It was 'my' catch, you shitty bastard."

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for kudos and comments. It really made my day!!

10.

Zoro gritted his teeth as he harshly grabbed his fishing rod and bucket and stormed off to his usual fishing spot on the ship, at the backdoor behind the fish’s tail where no one could bother him.

Knowing that his killing intent could scatter fishes away, Zoro tried to cool down the temper and started his routine of the day. Right, fishing.

Zoro liked it. It was a kind of jobs that he could do it alone, he also could meditate while waiting for a fish to swallow the bait --and sometimes he even caught some weird fish that seemed to be the all-blue-only new species according to a certain overexcited cook.

So, Zoro kinda liked fishing.

Still, that bastard never gave a proper thank to him for his hardworking labor. It was infuriating. 

 

Zoro had been fishing since the ship first dropped its anchor on All Blue. He supposed he should try to be useful somehow. The Baratie was the first restaurant to open on this legendary ocean. Understandably, there was no fisherman to be found around here and they had to fish by themselves to have enough supplies for running the restaurant. But when the news got out, many customers and fishermen started to arrive and the Baratie was more than glad to share the abundance of All Blue with them.

He once witnessed a fisherman presented what supposed to be a new kind of clams that his ship found in a less explored part of All Blue to the cook, and Sanji didn’t stop gushing over the mollusks. It was just a stupid clam which to Zoro, looked and tasted the same. How such a thing coaxed the rare genuine smile from Sanji, he didn’t understand. That day, Zoro was so worried that he was developing heart disease because it didn’t stop fluttering at the cook’s smile.

_He looks young with that smile._

 

That incident somehow made Zoro consider tagging along with one of the fishermen’s boats. He could always ask (albeit, demand) the fishermen that came to sell their good to the Baratie every morning to let him join their night fishing. Or let he borrow one of their boats and maybe a fishing net, a harpoon, baits and a freezer tank to keep his catch fresh because the cook was such a prissy who never settled for anything but the best, the fishermen couldn’t deny him, could they? There was so much fish you could catch with a rod and the interesting batches seemed to be residing in the deeper and farther ocean anyway. 

 

The first time that Zoro sailed with the fisherman, the captain who was an old sailor told him that Zoro was one lucky bastard.

“It isn’t every day that a newbie could catch a good fish on a day one, boy. I think the sea loves you,” said the old man with a worrying case of tooth decay from heavy drinking.

 _I don’t really care if it loves me or not._ That was what Zoro was thinking but didn’t say it out loud because he was examining the ugliest fish he’d just caught. It looked more a like a nightmarish kind of beasts than edible seafood but everyone on the ship was excited, swearing that they never saw this bastard before. So, Zoro was quite optimistic that it was a new species. He came back to the floating restaurant in a good mood, expecting the cook to lose his cool, worship his ground and tell Zoro how he was better and wiser than him.

The cook was literally hyperventilating.

But he fucking gave the praise to a random young fisherman because he appeared to the one at the dock watching over the fish to be transported into the kitchen for Zoro who wandered out in search for his drink after a long night. The cook just had to take this fucking moment to crawl out of the woodwork when Zoro wasn’t there.

His thunder was fucking stolen and that sonofabitch who took his credit had the gut to blush at the cook’s compliment, utterly charmed by his vibrant smile.

 Zoro threw the brat overboard and walked away before the stunned cook could come back to his sense and screech at him which was exactly what Sanji did later when he found the Marimo raiding his wine collection.

 _Shitty Curly. Stupid unappreciative bastard with a stupider goatee. I’ll show you._ Zoro swore he won’t let the cook walk away unpunished.

 

Zoro emptied a bucket of fishes onto Sanji’s bed on that night.

Then, he boarded the fisherman’s ship, demanding the man to make the journey as long as possible.

The same old fisherman was annoyingly sympathizing with him, saying that the sea was the only place to which he could escape his wife’s wrath. He got it all wrong but Zoro was too mad to correct him.

He didn’t fucking flee.

He was Roronoa Zoro, the greatest swordsman alive, strong as two thousand men combined, he didn’t run away from anyone. He just -- needed a private time for himself, to think about something…important.

 

11.

Zoro used to have absolute confidence in how to read the cook. He knew him like the back of his hand.

He knew the cook would be on his way to protect their Nakama when they were in danger.

He knew he could trust Sanji to have his back in battles.

He knew he would come up with the plan that could turn the table around.

He knew that despite his threats, the wellbeing of the crew was Sanji’s top priority, and the cook would always keep them healthy.

That was the Sanji he had known: the cook, the tactical fight of their Trio, and the left-hand man of the Pirate King.

 

But, when there was no life at a stake, and no battle to be engaged, when there were just the two of them -- navigating the mundane life day by day, Zoro found out that he had entered the uncharted waters, where everything about them was so foreign and unclear.

And so, Zoro started to feel _‘less’_ confident in his shit-cook-reading ability.

At the beginning of them staying together, the cook threatened to leave for All Blue without Zoro if he missed the ship, and Zoro had no idea whether did Sanji mean what he said. He did go back to his recollection of the cook’s bizarre language and how to decrypt it, trying to find an adequate reference to counteract, but came back emptyhanded. Nothing. Nothing could guarantee that the cook wasn’t going to leave. There was no crew nor ship to be the reason for them to stick together anymore. The cook had no obligation or whatsoever to wait for Zoro.

So, he decided to leave Shusui and Kitetsu on the cook’s bed.

For a safety measure, in cases, he unintentionally took a detour in his travel and couldn’t make it back on time for the Baratie’s departure.

It was a well-calculated plan. Now, there was just a handful of people out there that were worthy of him wielding his three Katana at once. Wado would be more than enough to knock out some rookie swordsmen. Moreover, he knew Sanji; this was the territory he was familiar with. The cook wouldn’t take any risks, smaller as they seemed if he knew his action would render his Nakama defenseless, or in Zoro’s case not in his 100% best. The cook would have no choice but to wait.

Zoro was contented in this knowledge when he visited Shimotsuki Village even he knew he was going to be kicked by an angry cook later.

The only downside of the plan, however, was that his swords would be sitting still without good maintenance during his absence. He felt a bit guilty for leaving them alone but he knew they would be fine. The cook might be bitchy but they learned to respect each other’s weapons a long time ago. He expected that Sanji might move them around, perhaps tucking them back into the corner of Zoro's room and letting them stay there until Zoro’s return, but he wouldn’t do anything to damage them.

However, to come back to them being well cared and laid on the right side of the cook’s bed like they were precious to Sanji, Zoro was—

\--Zoro was speechless.

 

As he laid down on his makeshift bed on the fisherman’s boat, sailing farther away from the Baratie tonight, Zoro admitted to himself that for the first time in his life, he was clueless of what he wanted, or to be precise, what did he want from Sanji.

 

12.

“I don’t see what’s wrong with the fucking fishes. They are fresh,” Zeff grumbled, standing at Sanji's doorstep. The old man looked moody from having been woke up by Sanji’s scream that he swore could be heard on the whole damn establishment. 

“Fresh?! FRESH?! Is that all you care about, you senile old sea-dog!” Sputtered Sanji. “Fucking unbelievable -- There are the fucking fishes on my BED!”

Zeff scratched his head and yawned. “Whatever, Eggplant. Just put the fishes in the fridge before you go to bed. We don’t waste food here.”

The Eggplant let out a groan, tearing his hair, as he looked desperately at his poor favorite blue pillow which was stained by fishy mucilage. There was no hope for it to be salvaged.

“I’m going to fucking kill him!!!” Screamed again the blonde, enraged. “What the hell is wrong with him? Is this how he thanks someone who is feeding him?!”

Zeff shrugged, “Dunno. It seems to me you are the one who owes him an apology.”

Sanji turned to glare at his adoptive father. “What’s kind of nonsense you are spilling, shitty geezer? Why should I apologize to someone who soiled my bed!?”

“Did you know who caught that ugly fish for you today, boy?”

Sanji frowned at a sudden topic-changing, “It was the Marimo.”

“So, you know.”

Zeff, then, gave Sanji a disappointing look which Sanji didn’t like because it made him feel like a child again and he didn’t understand why he was being scolded by the old man when clearly it was the Marimo’s fault.

“So what? Look, I don’t follow how these two incidents are related and why should I be blamed. What’s more important is, where the hell am I going to sleep tonight?”

Zeff rolled his eyes, giving up on the lost cause. “You are an asshole, you know that. Well, goodnight.” At that, he went back to his quarter and shut the door. He was too old to play a fucking matchmaker for two idiots at two in the morning. This was not the kind of retirement he was fucking looking for.

 

After a futile attempt to sleep in his own room, the fishy smell was too unbearable so he gave up. Sanji had no choice but to sleep in the only vacant room tonight which belonged to a certain moss head. Zeff’s words were still bothering him and the fainted odor that smelled like sweat and sea salt which came from the bedding did little to help Sanji to sleep.

He replayed the morning incident that Zeff implied was the reason for the Marimo going nut. He did remember Zoro throwing the poor fisher-boy overboard.

It was common that the Baratie shared the catch with the fishermen who caught it, inviting them to eat and drink on the house as a payment for their hardworking.

Was the Marimo being possessive of…the meat?

 _But it was a big fish!_ Sanji’s frown got deeper. There was no reason for him to be jealous of the poor fisherman’s share in the catch. Sanji was a fair person. He always gave Zoro the best cut and his good sake whenever he came back with some good fishes. That had always been enough to power the man. Why not this time?

The Marimo looked pissed after seeing Sanji talking to the fisherman, though.

“He is young and it was his first sailing. He was quite afraid of the unknown water so I just gave him a push to explore the sea. How could this piss him off? He was being unreasonable,” Sanji mumbled to the moss’s pillow.

 _Did the Morimo just want his praise?_ Sanji immediately snorted at the thought.

_That is laughable. Zoro isn’t a man who fletch for compliments…and he has never wanted my appreciation before._

That didn’t sound like the Zoro he’d known.

_He is an insensitive, drunken, uncultured marimo-headed oaf._

_But also he is the same person who is stern, uncompromising, and loyal._

It was always him who stood by Luffy’s side, always loyal and always ready his swords to deliver the captain’s wishes.

No one on the Sunny doubted that the swordsman was their first mate and the second in command to Luffy. Usopp may be joking about being the vice-captain once or twice and Sanji was constantly challenging Zoro’s leadership but that title rightfully belonged to Zoro from the start. Zoro didn’t care about any titles that were not ‘the strongest swordsman’ and neither everyone on the ship who had become pirates just to be free. But when Luffy’s playfulness started to get in a way to his dream, it was always Zoro who firmly reminded Luffy of his ambition and steered him back on the righteous path.

_That is our swordsman._

 

It was pointless to sugarcoat the fact that at one point they did hate each other.

They were just teenagers when they first met, just two hot-headed and prideful teenagers whose paths could never be more different. Naturally, they crashed. Even they overcome their pride and became Nakama afterward, nothing about them was gentle. If there was a genuine concern, it was well hidden among taunts and violence that found the very ground of their relationship; it had been like this since the walk on Arlong Park.

However, more than that, their rivalry -- it was necessary. They both realized it was never easy for a rookie’s ship full of kids and teenagers to command respect from the likes of older and vicious pirates. Luffy was strong but he was too carefree. So, the burden of looking after the newly formed crew was placed on the shoulder of them who were the ‘men’ of the group.

The stake was high and the danger was real. Zoro was right when he told them that this wasn’t a pirate game. Each of the crew had placed their dreams on the ship. They had to make it work, whatever it took. Sanji was prepared to sacrifice his life for their dream, but besides Luffy, how could Sanji trust someone but himself with this responsibility?

Unfortunately, a green-haired bastard thought the very same thing.

Fighting, thus, was the only way of testing the other’s strength whether they were strong enough to have the other's respect -- that Sanji was worthy in Zoro's eyes to lead the crew during Luffy's absence and vice versa. Then, it had transformed, slowly becoming a way to reassure themselves that the other still got everything under control, that they were getting stronger, that they were doing their jobs.

He didn’t know since when. It was perhaps during one of their many fights that Sanji came to the realization that he was glad that he didn’t have to shoulder the responsibility alone because he had him. He always had him.

 

13.

They had somehow created the _‘roles’._

The cook. He was always the voice of conscience for their captain; it was his job to prevent him from making a decision he would regret, like the time at Water Seven.

Zoro knew he, himself, would follow Luffy to hell without a complaint, but not Sanji. Sanji would go to hell too but not without letting them know how stupid their plan was. He may act on his heart’s call most of the time but he was also the most kindhearted and honorable man, and the ship needed to have someone to stand up to the captain’s order, to voice concerns for the sake of the ship and its crew. Luffy was a good kid but he was ridiculously young when he was a captain of a ship that was growing famous each day. True that the other crewmates weren’t shy to make their opinions known to Luffy but they needed someone with the strength to put a stop on the rubber man when he was being too insufferable.

Only the cook could do it. Only the cook that Zoro could trust with their captain’s heart – that Sanji would keep the man whom they decided to follow to the end of the world from being corrupted by power and fame like other great men before him.

 

That was how they had projected themselves for the crew and the world to see. When Zoro struggled to overcome his weakness and almost died, Sanji didn’t meddle. When the past caught up with Sanji, forcing the cook to leave, Zoro didn’t come to _‘rescue’_ him.  It was in their unspoken code that they didn’t interfere with the other’s problems, didn’t attempt to offer protection because it would risk the other looking weak. How the hell their captain could command respect from the world when his two best fighters let themselves be vulnerable, even for a moment?

And for a long time, these were their unspoken codes, their vows for the crew.

_To be the unshakeable pillars and to protect them_

_To stand always by their captain’s side._

_And to not stand together but to stand by the crew._

14. 

Three weeks later, Zoro came back. It was way past midnight and everyone was already asleep. As quiet as possible, Zoro passed the hallway to his quarter, he stopped briefly at Sanji’s room but decided not to knock. He had no reason to wake the blonde up.

When he turned on the light in his room, Sanji poked his sleepy head out of the duvet to look at him.

Zoro yelped and plastered himself to his closet.

“What the hell are you doing in my room?!”

“Don’t you know what time is it, Marimo? Shut your trap before you wake the others up!”

The two glared at each other for five minutes before Zoro huffed and turned his back on Sanji to pull clean clothes out from the closet to change. Sanji was grinning triumphantly because he just won the staring contest.

“Go back to your room, Blondie,” Zoro grumbled.

Instead of getting out, the cook scooted over to the left side of the bed, making a room that Zoro supposed was to be his side to sleep tonight. He hesitated but decided to fuck it and sat down as Sanji looked at him with an unreadable expression.

Sanji’s room was now clean but he didn’t know before that the Marimo’s bed could be very comfortable. He had slept on it since its owner’s disappearance and he didn’t plan to return it to Zoro soon, especially not tonight when he was too comfy to get up. He made up his mind.

“No. My room still smells like a fish tank.” Sanji lied naturally.

 “…Sorry about that.” 

“…apology accepted, I guess,” Sanji said, albeit hesitantly, feeling awkward at the unprecedented situation. He didn’t expect the moss to feel guilty and apologize. Now, it was Sanji’s turn to feel the guilt. Zoro, on the other hand, let out a sigh of relief, like he just got something off his chest. Feeling comfortable, the Marimo lied down on the bed, closed his eye, preparing to sleep.

“The fish—that one you caught before you fled the night – it was really good, you know,” Sanji murmured, suddenly realizing that Zoro had just come back after having been away for three weeks straight because of that stupid fish incident.

“I didn’t flee!” exclaimed the affronted Marimo.

“Sure, sure. You just had to hurriedly disappear for three weeks.”

They let the light banter clear the suffocated air of prior awkwardness. The comfortable silence filled the room again.

“What have you been eaten for three weeks?”

“Fishes.”

Sanji snorted at the man’s curt answer. “Elaborate, idiot.”

Zoro changed his sleep position to sleep on his left side and met with Sanji’s eyes staring expectedly at him in the dark. “We kept it simple," He began. " We ate what we caught. Sashimi was the easiest one to make, so we had it often. I missed rice though, we ran out of it on the second week -- didn’t expect we had to take a longer route to get back.”

At Sanji’s pained expression, Zoro regretted to not keep his trap shut. “But! But I never had the same fish for meals. There are too many fishes out there...I brought several kinds back with me, the old fisherman said they might be new species. They are in the refrigerator now, you can check for yourself in the morning.”

Sanji could see the Marimo’s blush when he started to stutter. He couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you, Zoro.”

Zoro made a weird noise in his throat like he was being choked.

“…Anyway, you should go out to see them by yourself. It’s unbelievable that you are living on the ocean of your dream but choose to lock your ass in the restaurant every day. Shame you, cook.”

“Fuck you, and you unemployed ass, Marimo,” the cook hissed, hitting Zoro with his pillow. “But you are right. I should take a vacation.” Turning to lie on his back, Sanji reached both of his hand up and started to gesture wildly, excited at the thought, “I will go explore my All Blue. I will swim and dive all day, and I will discover more new species than you.”

Zoro laughed, “You are on, Curly. I bet I could catch more fishes than you.”

“In your dream, moss head.”

“…”

“…”

“Hey, Zoro. Good night -- glad to have you back,” Sanji said in a hushed tone.

“…’night, love-cook. Glad to be back.” Whispered back Zoro as he closed his eye.

It was a long road for them, but trying to be genuine about their feeling was perhaps a good start for now.

 

15.

Among the Strawhats, Zoro seemed to have the largest number of challenges coming for him. Robin had been writing to them, keeping them updated about what the others were doing. Usually, it was Sanji who wrote back to the archaeologist, soaking the letter with his sloppy kisses before sending, much to the messenger bird’s dismay. Zoro heard from Robin that Luffy had recently complained about boredom and not having a good wrestle for a while, which made Zoro recall that the number of people wanting for the cook’s bounty was quite underrated compared to him. It had been bugging him for a while so he decided to write to Robin about this question. If there was someone who had answers to anything, it would be Robin.

Robin wrote back three days later. Zoro took it from Sanji’s pile of letters and decided to read it on the sofa in the blonde’s office. In the letter, she wrote,

 _“Dear Swordsman-san. I’m very pleased to hear from you personally. It has been four years since we last met. I’m glad that cook-san and you are still doing wonderful_ (Zoro snorted at her delusional statement but kept reading) _. Regarding your question, I have a hypothesis (Of course, you do_ – noted Zoro _). See, let’s compare your situation with our Pirate King. Luffy’s title, Pirate King, is granted to the person who discovers One Piece. Even if he is defeated, and that is to assume that someone could possibly take down our invincible captain, it cannot be taken away from him. However, I think most pirates would avoid fighting him at their best. It’s a wise decision._

_Your title as the greatest swordsman, on the other hand, is claimable. Moreover, you are the second in command to the Pirate King and have the highest bounty that is second only to Luffy. If I were a rookie pirate wanting to make a name for myself, trying to take you down would be more fruitful than chasing after the other Strawhats. It’s a shortcut to fame._

_And for_ cook-san’s _underrated number of_ challengers _, I think not many have an idea about Sanji’s true strength. The espionage works he did for us has kept him away from the spotlight and those who used to fight him tell no tales…_ ”

Zoro paused. He had never considered it this way before. To him, the cook was in any respect, equal. He thought Robin was right, though. Normal folks might really believe Sanji was just a cook whose bounty raised in consequence of his captain’s valorous feats. But it was still infuriating just to think about how people could be this ignorant to underestimate the cook.

 _“…This letter is getting long, I think I might have to end it for now. Please send my regards to cook-san. P.S. Nami asked me to pass her message to you and I quote, “when will we get the damn invitation? Luffy is growing impatient, and he is pestering me. I’m considering raising your debt’s interest for that, you idiot.” And here is Luffy’s specific request for cook-san, “Sanji, where is my cake!” I suggest you two reply to them soon and in the respective order for your own financial wellbeing. Best, Nico Robin._ ”

Zoro scratched his head, annoyed and befuddled. What the heck was the invitation, the sea witch was talking about? And cake?

“Oi, cook.” He called the blonde who was hovering around the sofa, trying to not look too curious about what his precious Robin-chan wrote to Zoro. He failed miserably because Sanji and discreet didn’t mix well when beautiful females were concerned.

“What?”

“Did you forget your promise to Luffy or something, he asked about some cake?”

Sanji frowned it sounded familiar but maybe not too important if he couldn’t remember, “No. According to Luffy, I’m obligated to send him a ton of meat, ham, and bacon. This ridiculous list also not includes poultry, seafood, and cheese which he expects me to deliver as well. But no, I didn’t recall anything.”

 

16.

Every day, a hundred of ships were heading to the floating restaurant, the Baratie, 1/3 of them being the ships of Zoro’s challengers who wished to claim his title and his bounty.

It wasn’t like Zoro dislike fighting but the Baratie wasn’t an ideal place to fight.

There was that one accident that Zoro almost cut the ship in half. It made him come to the conclusion why the ship’s fighting cooks chose martial arts to defend the ship. It was comparatively less destructive to the ship than using weapons (unless you were the cook). It was the same accident that was the last straw for the young head chef, making Sanji put his foot down and demand this madness to be stopped.

“Or, I’ll confiscate your share of liquor. One more damage on my ship and you will be drinking sea water for the rest of your life.”

Damn the cook.

Since when he could come up with a real threat that could make Zoro shudder in trepidation? But he was Roronoa fucking Zoro, he always emerged victorious and he knew just a solution to save his beloved alcohol.

 

17.

“Pirate Hunter, Roronoa Zoro! You better prepare yourself, your life is ending today!!” a contender of the day screamed, brandishing a sword at him while Zoro was taking a nap on the ship's second-floored balcony.

“Fight me!!” yelled again the rookie whose face and name Zoro could care less to memorize.

“Sure, you have a boat?”

“Eh?”

The green-headed swordsman stood up and yawned widely.  

“We cannot fight on this establishment. It’s old and one shitty cook would be pissed if I accidentally sink it,” explained the swordsman.

 _Like it’s fucking normal to sink a ship_ , thought the rookie challenger, sweat drops starting to form on his forehead but he told himself he had been preparing for this encounter. He knew this man was a fucking monster – he had to be, because how someone who was the strongest swordsman alive, one of the supernovas of the worst generation and the first mate of Pirate King himself could be anything else but a personified of death? But today, today, he would end Roronoa Zoro's life and take his title!!!

“Yes, I have a ship,” he answered, praying that his voice wasn’t shaken but Roronoa seemed to not notice about it.  
“Good. Give me ten minutes.”

“Eh?”

Then, Roronoa was gone. For an hour and a half.

 

 At the kitchen,

“Are you going to fight again?”

“Aye.”

The cook made a tsk noise of annoyance, he motioned one of the cooks to take over the order he was making. Sanji moved to another available kitchen station, taking some ingredients out from the pantry and setting them on the table.

“What do you want for lunch?”

“Omurice and I want rum to go with it.”

 

The greatest swordsman alive appeared on the challenger’s boat later with a sullen expression -- and with his green kaizoku bento and a thermal mug of warm brewed green tea -- because the cook bastard insisted that “Omurice is eating best with tea, you alcoholic idiot.”

“Set sail, we don’t have all day,” commanded the grumpy swordsman. “There is a nearby desert island, thirty minutes away from here. Here, the coordinate.” He handed the map to the still confused challenger. “I will fight you there. After I defeat you, you will take me back to the restaurant. Got it?”

“Y…yes sir?” sputtered the poor challenger, completely lost at this point.

“You can call other challengers to meet me at the island too, I don’t really care. I will fight you all at once but the evening meal starts at 7, I can’t miss that. You have to return me to the cook’s ship before 7.”

As the challengers and his crew hurriedly adjust their ship’s direction, Zoro thought to himself that he was quite generous, see he was fucking accommodating to these newbies. Mihawk should take a note.

 

18.

One year later, the desert island had now a name.

It was called "Marimo Town" and Zoro hated it with his burning passion.

He had no idea that people would be that interested in coming to watch him slash down challengers to the point businessmen saw it was profitable enough to invest money in the island, building inns for passersby clients coming for the match to stay the night. Seeing that the island wasn’t desert anymore, the fishermen came to open a fish market, some even decided to stay here permanently. Now, restaurants, café, souvenir shops and even a fucking spa had started popping up, greedily taking advantage of the booming tourist economy that was fucking found on Zoro’s fights. When Zoro had a match, all the shops would close like it was a national holiday and Zoro was its local celebrity aka the money generator.

Zoro was utterly disgusted.

The cook, of course, was enjoying himself at Zoro’s expanse. It was he and his fucking crew that spread the rumour about the town’s embarrassing name in the first place.

“Oh dearest customer, if you have time, go watch some match at the nearby island. Our swordsman is going to take down some opponents. Here is the island’s location. It’s called Marimo Town, right, Sanji?” Snickered Patty who sadly despite being an ass to Sanji, was still important to the cook, which meaned Zoro couldn’t chop him into cubes.

“Unfortunately, that’s its name. But the town is quite lovely, I hope you give it a try, milady.” Grinned back the head chef. They were all menace and Zoro hated them.

 

19.

Despite Zoro’s hatred for the town, Sanji was genuinely in love with it and would ask Zoro to accompany him to the town during his free time. Zoro knew how difficult for the blonde to find time to relax this day, hence, whenever Sanji asked, Zoro couldn’t refuse. He just couldn't.

Here Zoro was, questioning his life in a hipster café, watching Sanji enjoy his tiny piece of cake, an even tinier cup of coffee and flirt with the cafe's waitress.

Their usual visits consisted of Sanji checking out new cafes and shops, eating some sweet shits and flirting. Then, they would take a walk around the marketplace, checking some more vendor stalls. Sanji would buy some shits and Zoro was to be his pack mule like good old days. Then, they would go home. It was the same itinerary every time they visited the island.

Sanji, though, still treated the town like it was his first visit.

“Can’t believe myself that your barbaric fight would give birth to something as lovely as this island,” Sanji said as they took a walk on the marketplace, looking at shops and bars. Sanji was looking around at his surrounding excitedly, and was more talkative than usual. The cook really did need to have a break from the kitchen more than he was already allowed himself, Zoro thought to himself.

 

“Here, Marimo, try this spicy squid!” came back Sanji from one of the market’s vendor stands, waving a suspicious-looking grilled squid on a stick in front of him.

“My hands are full of your purchased shit, idiot.” Zoro gestured the cook to look at many bags on both of his hands.

“Too bad, if you ask nicely, I might handfeed you,” the cook said teasingly and popped the squid in his mouth. It was a bit salty for his liking but the face that Zoro was making was too funny that it was worth it.

While Zoro was still gaping like a fish out of water, Sanji noticed a beautiful lady, and went into the love-cook mode. Not waiting for the Marimo’s come back, he began noodling his way toward the poor woman. Zoro glared at Sanji’s direction.

It was when he was thinking about finding a bench to sit and wait for the cook to come back to him with a hand printed on his cheek that his observational haki detected the unfriendly approaching.

The swordsman let out a sigh and turned to greet a group of 20 pirates looming over him, trying to intimidate him with their height. Their captain, a dark-skinned man with ringlets and a facial tattoo cracked a wicked smile at him.

“Roronoa, finally we met,” said the captain, tipping his hat in a mocking manner to Zoro, “For the strongest swordsman, you don’t look like your bounty poster, you look – ‘smaller’ than I thought," the man said, with an intention to provoke.

“I do not know you so I don’t know what to think,” replied Zoro, bored. He wasn’t surprised to be ambushed on the island, considering that it literally was his fighting ring in the first place. Most of his past contenders did have a bit of honor, though. This pirate group, however, was clearly coming for his head. Normally, Zoro would gladly take them down on any other day, but today really was inconvenient. He was busy. The cook did want to see the fish market today, after all.

Zoro started to calculate whether he could take these pirates to some alley, finish them off and come back here before the dancing love cook could notice he was gone. Sanji was supposed to get slapped and come back very soon. Zoro hated to work under a time constraint.

The pirate captain’s black eyes did follow Zoro’s glance at the cook’s direction, seemed to come up with some conclusion as he showed a disgustingly grin at Zoro. His underlings followed suit, licking lips and leering openly at Sanji.

“Ah, I see. Such a beautiful little thing, isn’t he?”

Zoro started to feel real angry but the scums mistook his silence for his fear for the cook’s life. Idiots.

“Do not fear, Roronoa. I once was young and I know how powerful love is –“

“Your yapping is making me want to cut my ears off to spare myself from your fucking voice. If you want to fight, I will give you one, now be quiet.”

The saccharine smile that the older pirate captain kept faking morphed into one ugly sneer. He was clearly one of the assholes who loved hearing himself talk.

“Watch your fucking mouth, you little pup –“

Zoro was preparing to drop the bags and unsheathe Kitetsu when the cook appeared out of nowhere beside him and gently took the bags away from Zoro.

“Don’t drop my bags on the ground, stupid swordsman,” reprimanded the cook. “Well, I will wait for you at the fish market, then.” Zoro made an animalistic grunt in his throat. Sanji paid no attention to the group of pirates that was surrounding them like he didn't think they existed. The cook turned his back on them and started walking away. Zoro saw the pirate captain signaled several henchmen to follow the cook. Again these stupid scums failed to read the situation.

“Don’t.”  He warned.

Thinking he had the upper hand, the leader goaded, “You are in no place to bargain, Roronoa! I might let him go right now, but I do not plan to let such a pretty thing like him that slip away. He seems ‘feral’. And the feisty type is always a lewd one on the bed. I’m planning to find out soon but you won’t be alive at that point to worry!”

_Too far. You fucking went too far._

Zoro felt a rush of cold fury through his entire body, the beast inside that screamed to be unleashed. And he let it out. The violence aura emitting from the swordsman alone made the underlings petrified on the spot. Even their captain had to take a step back. “Shoot them, you fool! Don’t drop your weapons!!” He cursed at them, pulling out his own gun with a trembling hand. When he looked back the swordsman already tied a black bandana on his head and with a Kanata on his hand, he looked exactly like his wanted poster, no – more terrifying. The monster. He was literally the monster.

“I said _‘don’t’_.”  

_Don’t fucking dirty his shoes with you scums’ blood._

 

20.

Swords still dripping blood, Zoro wandered off to find the cook and saw him not far from the marketplace, leaning against the wall, smoking.

“I hope you don’t mind me taking out the trash for you,” the cook said mildly. Zoro noticed small stains of blood on the man’s dress shoes and grimaced. He thought he could get all the henchmen before they had a chance to touch Sanji, he guessed he was being too slow. Zoro promised himself to train harder when he got back to the Baratie.

“What’s wrong with that face?”

“Nothing. Just let’s go to the fish market before it’s closed.”

“We aren’t going anywhere until you tell me why are you sulking.”

Sanji’s visible eye widened in surprise when the swordsman suddenly knelt down in front of him. Zoro used his hand to wipe out the stains from the Blonde’s shoes.

“…Zoro?”

“You are Black Leg and they – “He let out a sigh, struggling to find a right word for his frustration. “They were unworthy.”

Sanji just looked at him. He, then, put a cigarette out on the wall and crouched down to meet the upset moss. Firmly, the cook said,

“And you are my vice-captain, the strongest swordsman. I’m not very happy to see you dealing with low-life thugs that don’t deserve your attention too. And seriously, you should consider having a trash filter or something. I just—hate it sometimes. No one dares to disrespect Hawkeye, they better fucking show the same respect for you."

“…What I suppose to do, Sanji?”

“I dunno. Maybe open a dojo? Having two thousand pupils to take care of those weak challengers while you just sit still and look awe-inspiring, as inspiring as a moss can be anyway.”

The swordsman snorted at the suggestion, so much for the cook’s wisdom.

“I rather die than having to deal with some young brats.”

They looked at each other and chuckled.

“Look, we don’t meddle with each other’s business so I keep out of your fights. But I don’t mind, really – to dispose of some rotten garbage –for you. If you don’t mind, that’s it.”

Zoro gave him a lost-puppy look which shouldn’t be considered cute. Sanji would laugh at him if his own face wasn’t furiously red right now.

“Well?”

“Y--yes. Yes. I don’t mind,” stuttered your greatest swordsman.

“Good! Now, we better get going before the market’s closed, shall we?”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

21.

The quickest, easiest, most effective way to keep the cook happy was to let him do what he wanted.

 

Their crewmates wrote books about things. Robin wrote about history; Chopper wrote about medicine and Usopp claimed to write a realistic biography of his adventure which they knew better to believe him. Zoro had no interest in the book industry but if he wanted to write something, that would be the piece of advice that he would like to pass on to the next generation.

It was great advice.

Anyhow, it wasn’t like there would be people out there who needed to use this wisdom, beside Zoro and the staff who had to handle the cook’s tantrum on a daily basis.

What the cook loved to do most was to work. In fact, he was practically addicted to working. Zoro had learned to live with this particular quirk of the cook since they were young and hot-headed, sailing together in the Merry. To Zoro, work was work; it was something to be done in order to acquire something that you desire and then you go take some rest when it’s over. The cook treated works like life sustenance, something sacred and essential. He was physically appalled at the innocent suggestion by some well-intentioned staff to take a holiday break once in a while.

“I sailed with the Pirate King for six years. That’s the longest sabbatical leave in the history of employment. I don’t need more.” The cook laughed it off before ordering the staff to get back to their stations because a lunch break was over.

 _Yeah, as if running around on the ship doing chores all day, cooking, preparing feasts, fighting, and overthrowing tyrants on every island we visit could be considered a breezy vacation,_ thought sarcastically Zoro from his table. He had learned when to pick a fight and usually, he stayed out of people’s habits. It wasn’t like he had the right to preach anyone about their choice in lifestyles. Besides, most of the time, the cook’s workaholism was more or less harmless -- just mildly annoying. But the benefits of letting him do as he pleased outran the disaster that was to descend upon if you prohibited him.

To demonstrate the statement, take this theoretical _scenario A_ , a general sum-up of the real incidents happening in the past, for example.

 

It was a nice warm sunny day and the local time was around noon. Things had been going too slow on the Baratie and the one cook ran out of works to do. If he was a reasonable person (he wasn’t), he would take a nap on this leisure day but because he was insane, the cook decided to roam the restaurant, examining every nook and cranny to find the smallest, most ridiculous grain of imperfection to nitpick, consequently gaining the staff and himself some extra works to finish before the evening rush.

When he was in that zone, no one was really safe. One time, the cook gave a long angry rant about how the color of the dining hall’s newly replaced curtains didn’t assist the jovial spirit of the summer and was making the dining hall look dimmed and unartistic. The poor retail staff had to hurriedly make a quick change or the cook wouldn’t stop pestering them. Sometimes, it was about the tablecloth, or the furniture, the decoration, or _“that old windowpanes don’t let in enough light.”_ And when all the things worked fine, it was about the temperature and the staff's manner. He never ran out of things to nag. This, according to some senior chefs (*cough*Patty*cough) was the difference between Zeff and Sanji in how they ruled. The former owner only cared about the food. If it was good, it was enough. The young passionate chef, on the other hand, wanted his customers to have great experiences in dining at his place. So, he bitched about everything that never the issues before under Zeff’s reign.

Fortunately, the cook wasn’t too far gone to start nitpicking about the food. It was the mutual respect shared between the chef and his staff. Despite his bitchiness, the cook was a good boss and he had faith in the people he hired to know what they were doing about the food. This, in Zeff’s word, was the only string that held the staff back from starting a mutiny.

Zeff was the only person who could straightforwardly voice out his opinion about the cook's administration. He rarely did though because it disrupted the chain of command. All the staff had to obey the head chef’s command, that was the first law of living on the floating ship. That unless you were the head chef’s dad, you were above the law.

“No sailor cares about that tiny little flowers you love to sprinkle on the dish, shitty Eggplant. Only the food matters.” Zeff would grumble, act as a representative voice of the staff, even in the end, they would do as the cook said.

“Excuse you. The swine may not comprehend the art of high-end plating, but there are women and men of culture who dine here as well. They would appreciate the artful presentation and the hospitality, and review how my restaurant gives the best service in the world!”

At the point the adoptive father, as well as the senior chefs, would roll their eyes, silently gesturing the young, confused and scared ones to continue working and to ignore the boss because he was having the period again.

 

This was the cook being his usual perfectionist self, perfectly obnoxiously healthy. Just barely bearable. If gods were merciful, the craze of the week would die down in a day or two.

Zoro’s response to this situation would be nothing. When the cook nitpicked, it meant he was being an asshole to maintain his status of the ship’s diva asshole because life was too fucking peaceful for his liking.

 

22.

There were two diversions of Zoro’s action from the original flowchart, though.

 

23.

_Scenario B_

During Zoro's first year on the cook's ship, when the cook’s level of bitchiness rose to the point that his nagging started to make the staff really distracted (synonym: traumatized), Zeff would raise his spatula in a warning.

“Do not bother the staff with your nonsense, Eggplant!”

Perhaps, the older chef didn’t want the staff to have a second moment to misinterpret his action as a gesture of kind concern for the staff’s wellbeing, and whatever idea they might have, it was corrected in Zeff's next line:

“Your PMS is fucking making them distracted. It disturbs the kitchen’s flow! If they don’t give the best, I will fucking cut their salary and their fucking leg!” His yell could be heard loud and clear across the kitchen. These duo owners, the father and the son, were the literal personification of the evil but for now, the older chef was clearly the lesser evil whom the staff was looking up to make the head chef leave them alone.

And he did.

“Go annoy someone else who isn’t fucking working!”

 

The only person who wasn’t exactly working on the ship was Zoro. He wasn’t one of the staff either, thus, wasn’t protected by the law and could be sacrificed for the greater good.

Zoro’s instinct was to make himself scarce, which proved to be a useless strategy very quickly because Sanji's crazy father would always find him, mysteriously materialized next to him in his hideaway to strike a bargain with him like a real devil.

“You aren’t essentially doing something important right now, are you?” barked Zeff the question both of them knew it didn’t need to be answered. “Go keep that rampant Eggplant entertained.” And here, Zoro wasn’t a person who cared about seniority and he rather fought a sea king than trying to pacify the livid cook but Zeff was that kind of an old man he wanted to be in his good grace. Even more, Zeff was truly a devil in disguise, old and cunning, who could read a man’s soul like a fucking book, he didn't give Zoro a moment to hesitate and promised him of some good ale. Three beautiful bottles to be exact if Zoro did him the deed.

And that was how Zoro’s soul was bought.

 

Zoro’s first plan was to provoke the cook to fight him. It would let Blondie vent out his frustration like a normal decent human being and Zoro could have some fun. It was a good plan but it failed. It was his befuddlement that the cook shot down the invitation. This led to Zoro having a trip to his memories lane to search for what could be wrong with the cook who just made Zoro lose his ale. If he remembered correctly, the cook enjoyed fighting as much as he did.

Zoro didn’t remember correctly.

In his meditation, he discovered that fighting didn’t even get to the top lists of the cook’s preferable activities. The cook appreciated a good fight but he didn’t actively seek it for fun. It was a big reminder that despite Sanji being a badass fighter, the cook was, yeah, a cook who enjoyed cooking and other violent-free hobbies. If Zoro got right about the statistics, the cook’s most selected choice to spend time would be…

Flirting with women.

 

Like hell, Zoro was going to involve a woman in his plan.

 

He decided to search in his mind again and came up with something that might work. He tested it when the next chance to win back his alcoholic prize arrived.

“Oi, cook!” Yelled the swordsman across the bustling kitchen when he spotted the blonde scolding some frightened cooks.

“What!?” Yelled back the cook but with more anger.

“Wanna go shopping?”

“…”

“…”

The cook sniffed. “I suppose.”

_Jackpot._

 

Since the first success, the crew seemed to form a civil contract that agreed on Zoro’s duty to take their head chef out when he had the meltdown. Zoro repeatedly told himself that he did it for the booze even though he sometimes forgot to claim his prize.

Anyway, taking the cook for shopping was actually easy.

All he had to do was to unleash him on some islands with functioning capitalism. The cook would soon start converting his pent-up energy into the purchasing power and the lucky island would soon find itself richer by the end of the day.

On their first shopping day, Zoro realized two things:

First, was how crucial the witch was to their crew, besides navigating them to Raftel, she practically kept them from bankruptcy. Seeing how far the cook could go when his allowance wasn’t restricted by Nami made Zoro rethink that maybe the cook didn’t volunteer to accompany the girls on their shopping just to play the chivalrous knight, maybe the cook, himself, loved to shop.

Second, he didn’t remember to be asked to be the cook’s pack mule for this kind of shopping in their younger years. What they did together was to shop for necessary goods and go. The cook was also more closefisted. Here he was, giving his money away in exchange for the most nonsensical stuff like some embellishment that he would never wear twice.

 “Why the heck did you buy that thing?” 

“Why wouldn’t I buy it? It matches my eyes, see?” the cook showed off the bracelet, already in a good temper after wasting all the money on some absurdly pricey shits.

“You never bought this girly thing before when we shopped in the past.”

The cook looked at him in the eye, deadly serious when he said,

“Marimo, what I did with you and the other males is called restocking, something to do and be done quickly with the pack mule whose attention span is of a 5-yr-old child. This, on the other hand, calls shopping, a form of entertainment to be enjoyed by the adults. And yes, I did indulge in this luxuriance before but with my beautiful flowers.”

Zoro knew he had no right to feel jealo-- offended, but he did it anyway. “You could have asked me, I would have been okay.”

“No, you would have complained,” Sanji retorted.

“…” Zoro could not object that. He knew that a large man liked him acting like a petulant child insisting that he was right would look ridiculous so he crossed his chest and pretended to be done with the argument. Sanji let out a secretive smile and tried to appease to the indignant swordsman. After all, the moss had been nice to him today, he deserved some praises.

“But I think I might be wrong – you are surprisingly a tolerable companion, though.”

 

The cook had learned to expect to be taken to shopping after two times that Zoro suggested. There was more than one time he suspected that the cook was being a prick just to wait for Zoro to offer the shopping session. If he just wanted to go out, he could have asked nicely like a cultured man he claimed himself to be. Zoro decided to use the card carefully or the cook would become spoiled.

 _You shouldn’t reward misbehavior or you will be encouraging it_ _._ He remembered Koshiro taught him about this lesson on the last time he visited when his teacher still believed Zoro would want a dojo of his own name.

He hated to repeat what he said to Koshiro but _I suck at disciplining kids._

 

24. 

_Scenario C_

Sometimes, the cook’s workaholism was a manifestation of his grief.

It happened frequently during the raining season. All Blue was indeed a bizarre sea. The sea could be peaceful and calm where there was plenty of sunshine and warmth, but out of nowhere the dark clouds swept by, uninvited and bringing along with them the rain and the storms which turned the fine day into a shitty one, where the sea was raging, the day looked like the night, cold and dark; all of these happened in the same day and the same part of the sea.

The rain clearly did not feature well in the cook’s good memories. When it rained, people wouldn’t go out for the eat, there wouldn’t be much to do to pass the stagnant time. The day like this, the cook would lock himself in his office, working as if his life depended on it.

It was painful to witness the proud man like him looked so vulnerable and small, even the staff would wish for the cook’s tantrum instead of his melancholy.

The first time that Zoro saw the cook liked this was in his second year when he burst into the office, determined to drag him out of the hell hole he dug himself in because the sorrow emitting from the man who always shined brightly was getting too unbearable. But when he saw the cook's one visible eye. He finally understood everything.

Sanji worked the same way Zoro trained.

Zoro decided to stay with the cook until he could drag his ass out of that dark place.

 

They were fighting the ghost of the past.

When it rained, Sanji would whisper to Zoro about something that used to happen. It didn’t follow the chronological order. It was always short, undescriptive and impersonal like a fragment of someone’s life story that he happened to overhear.   

Something like:

“It rained when he escaped.”

“He locked that boy in the dungeon when she died.”

Zoro would listen attentively because he never heard them before, at least not from the cook. Those boys in his early 20s would not allow such vulnerable moment like this to happen between them. Young Sanji wouldn't open up and Young Zoro wouldn't offer, the cook in fear of Zoro’s mockery and the swordsman in fear of Sanji’s rejection.

Luckily, they were way past that youthful stupidity and Zoro was savoring the moment that finally they were brave enough to let intimacy be shared between them. Tentatively he grew bold enough to offer back his comment.

“I fought him, the man I’ve sworn my life to. I hurt him. I starved him.”

“You apologized,” he pointed out.

“I shouldn’t have left the crew.”

“It’s your stupidest decision up to date. And you have done many stupid things.” He said matter-of-factly, knowing that the person in front of him, even he wasn't in his best condition, didn’t need to be coddled.

“…I know.”

 

For someone as strong as them, there was the moment like this when they were brought back to the time when they were at the lowest point of life, trapped by the memories and cursed to fight over and over the same battle. Sometimes, it was manageable but the retreating ghost always returned to remind them of the scar, to open it and to hit where it hurt the most. One victory could never magically erase the childhood pain for it has ingrained into their existence. Zoro was made to believe that he was never strong enough and Sanji lived believing he wasn’t good enough to be alive.

But it shall pass. It always did.

“When will you go to bed, shit cook? This is way past midnight.” complained the swordsman from the sofa where he waited for Sanji to ready to get out of the shit hole. _You prove to no one why you live. You deserve life._

“In a minute, impatient moss. Let’s me finish this paper first,” Answered the cook who despite his word, did put his glasses down and prepared to turn off his desk lamp.  _I know._

 

25.

Perhaps it was because of some boundary-breaking stuff that brought them to where they were now: in Zoro's room, with his privacy being invaded and the cook doing as he pleased. In 'his' room. The cook, the resident clean freak who bathed every day, used to complain that Zoro's room stank and he could smell it from his room, and Zoro, in annoyance, let the cook inside his room to shut him up. Cleaning seemed to a thing that the cook did for entertainment as well, the freak. Why his way of relaxing had to always be laborious, Zoro would never understand. But whatever, Zoro got the bedding changed and the room that smelled nice so he thought maybe he could tolerate this.

That – was until the cook wanted to dress him. Or, he had a hunch that the cook wanted to burn his clothes and buy a new collection which practically meant he would pick clothes for Zoro to wear. God forbid, he had to lower himself to let the cook dress him like a girl’s fucking doll just to keep the cook happy. It was his own mistake to let the cook rummage his wardrobe in the first place.

“Who the hell has eight clothes for a living?!” exclaimed Sanji from the floor, kneeling in front of the open closet.

“A normal person,” replied Zoro from the bed.

“No, it’s not! You used to have more than these rags—where are they?”

“On the Sunny. The rest didn’t fit in one duffle bag.”

“Why don’t you buy a new one, you know like normal people?” bitched the cook, exasperated.

“7 clothes for 7 days and one for sleeping. More than enough for one man,” reasoned the nonchalant swordsman.

Sanji looked utterly disgusted.

“I thought when I see you wearing the same shirt every day that perhaps you might have plenty of the same shirts in your closet. You look like that kind of a person who buys a cheap rag in a bulk and wears the same shit every day because his house has no mirror. Guess, I still overestimate you.”

“Why are you bitching about it of all sudden?”

“Why don’t you tell me? You live with just 8 clothes?!”

“Actually, it used to be 9. But one's worn out, so I left it at the bottom of the closet.”

Sanji rummaged more and fished out Zoro’s long green coat, the one that had seen all the battles in the New World with him. The cook stared at it.

Zoro cast a glance at the coat. It had seen some naughty fights with him but he still had no emotional attachment to it. After all, Zoro was never a material man.

“Been a while since I stop wearing it.” He couldn’t remember when he last wore it.

“Five years," Sanji said immediately, the gear in his head turning.

 

Zoro stood at the doorstep of the cook’s office, two plates of lunch in both of his hands. The cook didn’t come down to the galley to eat. It always happened when he was busy and forgot time. Zoro scolded at the thought when the staff timidly informed him of their boss’s absence, and went to fletch two dishes from the dish rack and filled them with the day's curry and naan bread to take to the cook’s office. Zoro would march right in, slammed the plates down and demanded the cook to eat, that if he could find the visible wooden floor that wasn’t cover in papers to step in. The office was so messy. It could be the sign that the cook was in that zone again and Zoro’s mind was automatically calculating for the safe route: A, B or C.

“Did you get lost in front of the office again? Just eye on me and slowly step in, Marimo. Come on, you can do it.”

“You're not my mom, idiot cook,” Zoro said but stepped inside, trying to avoid leaving a footprint on the notes scattering on the floor. There was more shit littering on the cook’s messy desk, some more notes, itinerary and drawings. In the cook’s hand was a planner. He put the cook’s plate down and went to the sofa to finish his lunch. The cook continued to write down on his planner like a mad man, the food still untouched.

_Route B, that’s it._

“Want me to chaperone you on the shopping trip again?”

He received a glare for his good intention. The cook slammed his pen down, pulled his plate to him, and started eating. Seeing the cook finally ate, Zoro started shoving down the food, feeling contented that he didn't have to go somewhere anytime soon. They ate in silence when the cook decided to reveal what had occupied him this morning for him to miss the lunch.

“I’m planning an anniversary.”

Zoro lifted his head from the curry to look at him, brows furrowed and confused.

The cook stared at his half-empty plate, looking abnormally timid and shy of all sudden.

 “…Well, last night, when I helped rearrange your wardrobe and found your old coat – I just remembered that it has been already five years since -- we moved the Baratie to All Blue. We haven’t given it a proper celebration yet, too busy adjusting to the new sea and all. Maybe, now that we aren’t that busy. Maybe we could do it.”

“You want to give the ship a celebration?” repeated Zoro. Well, it wasn’t a bad idea, he scratched his chin. He knew all the staff would appreciate the cook’s gesture. And when he thought of all the booze he could get his hand on freely without being hit by a ladle from the cook or his father, it was actually a _great idea._

“Not just the ship! It means for everyone, the guests, the staff, Zeff, me and you,” The cook almost whispered at the last part before his voice raised to hide his embarrassment, “You know, for all of us! For working hard and being…there.”

“Will there be free booze?” Zoro spoke of his concern, his most concern.

Suddenly, Sanji had an urge to kill a man, particularly the idiot sitting on his sofa whose thick-skulled head just failed to get the implication of his thankfulness in the message Sanji struggled to offer to him. 

“I’m not holding a cheap party. There will be booze but you alcoholic ass will not get any unless you help out!”

How the cook could change from adorably trying to thank him to the bossy bitch in a minute Zoro couldn’t understand. It was just a simple question. He said exactly that to the cook, sans the part he thought he was cute, and was told to leave.

“You better come back at 4. I’ll need your eye and all the brain cells you could muster up!” The cook shouted after him. And some old folks had the gall to lie that only women had the temper of the sea.

 

The cook decided to wait for the high season to be over before announcing the anniversary to the staff or they would be too exhausted to be jovial about it. From the cook’s planner, they had six months to go until the day that the cook had planned to hold the celebration which according to the cook was plenty of time but the workaholic idiot still wanted to start working on something that could be done by just the two people.

 

26.

_A week later_

Zeff had suspected that the little Eggplant and his shitty swordsman was up to something. It was probably that the swordsman was robbed into the eggplant’s conspiracy of the month. The two may not realize this but they weren’t exactly discreet about something that supposed to be a secret.

Here and there, there were some conversations that the staff accidentally overheard them whispering (aka fighting with each other) when they thought they were alone. It was too vague to get the idea right. But, finally, they had a solid piece of evidence of what was going on between the young boss and his man.

The first witness was a young apprentice on a cleaning duty of the hall at 2nd floor where the Eggplant’s office was located. The local time was 12 PM. The normal time when the two usually had lunch. And these were the overheard conversations that the boy swore under the threat of being used as a fish bait if he lied were all true:

“I said anything would work just fine, shit cook.”

“Get your ass over here, asshole. You didn’t even look at it!”

“I don’t have to. It’s a waste of time. Why would anyone be paying attention to the difference between this blue and that blue? It’s just blue.”

“Everyone with eyes would mind, you damn colorblind single cell. And they are sapphire blue and cobalt blue. Fucking hell they are different! See!!” A sound of a hand was heard smashing on a table, likely by the cook who wanted to make a physical emphasis to his statement.

“Don’t get your panty in a twist. Yawwwwn, just pick that green one and be done with it.”

The thud sounds of an object being hit on something organic and the floor respectively. The angry yell followed.

“Did you just fucking throw a paperweight at someone who was asleep!?”

“Boo hoo, for a so-called strongest swordsman, you screamed so much for simply being thrown a paperweight at, like a sissy.”

The apprentice didn’t stay long enough to eardrop the next conversation. He fled the hall like a boy with a good sense of self-preservation. By the evening, everyone on the ship, except those couple in the story, had heard the story more than one time, being retold at least twice by their fellow crewmates who liked them were excited about the news. They had done too many caterings to know what “color schemes” was all about. Something was going to happen and if it was what they thought it was…

Everyone was in the high spirit, including the former owner-chef. Particularly, the former owner-chef.

 

That night, Zeff, himself, overheard something interesting as well. No, he didn’t eardrop. No owner eardrops in his own home, boys. But the cleaning boy’s story gave him the good mood in a year and he decided to listen to his fussy doctor’s advice to take care of his creaking body once in a while -- he had a good reason to keep this rusty old boat to stay above the surface now. Anyway, he decided to go get some milk from the kitchen, to follow the doc’s suggestion: cut out the alcohol and eat healthy, yadda yadda some boring shit.

Both the Eggplant’s and his rooms were located on the third floor of the ship as so the guestroom which seemed to have a permanent resident at this point. The Eggplant and the shitty swordsman’s rooms were next together and close to the stair while Zeff’s was at the end of the hall so no one disturbed his rest. He was a light sleeper so it was a good arrangement if people didn't want to lose a life or a limp. To go to the kitchen at the ground floor, Zeff had to pass the Eggplant’s quarter. Apparently. And it was such a coincidence that he happened to hear something and might stop to listen for a bit. The milk was still in the fridge and it could wait.

“You cannot invite all the people.” the voice of a certain green-headed idiot passed through the door. _Interesting._

“But I want to invite all the people,” argued the Eggplant.

“You do realize that half of –scratch that, all the people you plan to invite to the party have bounties, right? If the marine is half-wise, they will fucking come to wreck your anniversary.”

“Aw, are you afraid of having a food fight with the marine, Marimo-kun?”

“Like hell I’m afraid! I’m going back to my room.”

“There, there. Don’t get your delicate feathers ruffled—“

“Stop ruffling my head!”

“It is fucking relaxing, it’s like petting the animal’s fur,” The brat sounded adoring.

“…”

“Okay, okay. I apologize. Satisfied? Don’t pout.”

“I do not.”

“But I’m serious about inviting them all to the celebration.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you; it’s going to be a management nightmare. You will lose your hair from the stress.”

“I don’t do things mediocre. And since you have a degree in management?”

“I don’t. I have a common sense.”

“You just hate people, my mossy Grinch, green and grumpy.”

“Fine. Do whatever you want.”

“Of course, I will, thank you for reminding me of my right.”

“You are annoying.”

“I will call a truce. Should I send out invitation cards or should I buy the newspaper’s ad space?”

“I—“

“Wait, let’s finalize the guest list first.”

“Ugh.”

Sounds of bed sheet rustling.

“Don’t you fucking sleep on my bed,” chided the Eggplant but he made no attempt to kick the swordsman off his bed, judging from no sound of the lump hitting the floor yet.

“Okay, I’m prepared. Go sort your crazy list.”

Zeff needed to hear no more of their conversation. If you could see him right now, you would notice that his neatly braided mustache visibly gave the happy twitches and that he walked all the way down to the kitchen with a spring in his step. Screw the Doc, Zeff would give himself a glass of brandy tonight.

 

Meanwhile, in Sanji’s room, the fight was still going on. Sanji begrudgingly admitted that the moss was right about moving to lay down on the bed and joined him shortly after his back started to protest, sitting on the dresser chair and reciting names of the guests they planned to invite for thirty minutes would kill a lesser man's back.

“Viola is…fine. No. No, Perona. No, Tashigi. NO, Pudding.”

“What’s wrong with you and these fine, lovely ladies?”

“Perona is a nut job and I hate her. That woman IS a marine and didn’t your ex-betrothed something try to kill you before?”

“Who cares – My fiery, strong, beautiful flowers with her own agenda who needs no man! My life has been blessed with their grace!” Sanji drew little hearts around the aforementioned names of the female list. Why bother having a list when he ended up inviting them all? Zoro was irritated.

“Do you always think with your dick?” the swordsman muttered and scrambled for the list of male guests before the cook could grab it. Knowing the cook’s shameless bias on some of the guests, Zoro quickly ticked yes on names of the ruler and citizens of Kamabakka.

Sanji was horrified.

“Give me back my list!” the cook lunged at him but the swordsman had already predicted the move. With Sanji’s focus was solely on the list on his right hand, Zoro stretched his arm out, waited for the cook to attempt to grab it and used this opening chance to push his head under the covers with his left hand. While the cook was struggling to break free from the blanket enclosure, and with a pen in his mouth – he wasn’t the master of Santoryu for nothing – Zoro quickly crossed out more names of people he didn’t like. Like that Gin guy. He hesitated about Law. The man was their ally and all but he did have an unhealthy obsession with the cook in the raid suit. What happened in Wano should never be repeated again, ever.

So, no.

The same for the North Blue gangs that could be or had already been Stealth Black fanboys.

The cook finally broke free and kicked Zoro off the bed.

 

27.

When the head chef had called for the evening meeting a week later, all the staff was looking at each other with the knowing grin. The anticipation had been building since the first piece of news was shared. The young cooks and waiters talked excitedly about food and booze, the music and girls, bonus and holidays, while the senior chefs who practically had raised Sanji just sighed in relief. Zeff dreamed about a real retirement with little brats, and Patty nudged Carnes, agreeing that they needed to go back to check the five-yr-old pool to see who would win the bet.

Everyone was happy it was the swordsman. When he first arrived, they were uncertain. They knew of his reputation but not his personality or what was the kind of relationships he had with their boss. He didn’t blend in and he carried himself differently; He wasn’t their fellow staff nor their boss. His place in the ship was never directly stated. But Zoro grew on them. They discovered that he was a nice guy, a down-to-earth kind of person who helped out when he could, who didn’t act all high and mighty like many snobs in power. But most of all, he was good for their boss, keeping him grounded.

The dynamic, the endearment, the energy – they couldn’t be more obvious. It had been a wonderment for the staff why wouldn’t they wed a long time ago? Or if the two would be that kind of couples who wished to never have their marriage officiated which was a bizarre concept to the staff still. After all, they were sailors. All the sailors loved weddings! A life of seafarers was short and harsh so any opportunity to throw a celebration was welcome. And weddings. The wedding was the most important of them all. It was a celebration of love and life, a chance to give a toast to the couple, to give a great speech, to reminisce the old times with friends, to eat and drink to the heart’s content and to weave a heartwarming story that would be told for the years to come.

In short, the staff was all into the idea of throwing the biggest and the greatest wedding for their boss and the swordsman. It was a great chance as the sailor and as the cook to give their best for the people and to life they had treasured!

 

“You what?” Carne asked because something might be absolutely wrong with his hearing.

“Are you deaf? I said I’m planning for the celebration of our restaurant’s 5th anniversary!” Sanji said, waving a planner in his hand.

“We should do this age ago to give us all a celebration for working hard all these years. I think we deserve it, don’t we?” He addressed to the crowd which went unexpectedly silent. It was weird as he expected they would be more excited about the chance to get drunk, especially when all the food and booze would be on the house.

 _Yes, but not this one!_ Everyone wanted to scream, everyone except the oblivious cook and his swordsman who sit further away from the meeting, playing a decoration plant and eating his snack like he had no part in this and whatsoever.

One of the cooks who was braver than the rest raised his hand, “Is it the only celebration we are going to have in this year, head chef?”

“Are you sure there isn’t anything you might have forgotten to announce?” Patty added desperately, he would hate to return the money to the pool. Who knew when he was going to get it back? _Seeing how this shit show is heading, it probably never._

Sanji blinked.

“Is there any celebration should I be planning beside my own restaurant’s anniversary?”

_Your own wedding!!!_

Screamed silent the staff in unison. They wouldn’t want to be ungrateful and all but they had been promised something better. Any celebration would be pale in comparison to the wedding.

And Zeff. Poor Zeff.

The former head chef looked so done with his life. And here he thought that there would be no more rooting for them to get their shit together, that he believed one of the idiots finally made the right move. All he ever wanted was them to be happy –happier. What they already had was great. In fact, it was something that many had searched their lives for, but they could become so much more if they weren’t fucking blinded. The disappointment was too much. He was stupid to overestimate his son’s intelligence. And the Eggplant’s choice in a mate equally matched him in terms of stupidity. They fucking deserved each other -- and the special place in hell for the bullshit they had put Zeff through. 

He wanted to drink into a stupor and smash their heads with the bottle.

 

28.

Despite the big letdown of the year, the majority of staff had moved on quickly. The preparation for the Baratie’s 5th year anniversary had begun, the time was ticking down, with only 2 months left until the final day. They were professional cooks of the sea, they may not get what they wanted but they would put all the effort into making it the greatest celebration ever.

The former owner-chef was being moody than usual. Sanji quickly disregarded his brooding as Zeff finally caught up with his old age. The old man decided to go sulk around the receptionist area, yelling at anyone who called through the restaurant’s Den Den Mushi. He might hate seeing human faces (especially the Eggplant’s stupid face) right now but the snail’s face didn’t count and he needed to yell at someone.

 

8 weeks before the anniversary and Zeff received a phone call from someone unexpected.

“You’ve called the shitty restaurant!”

“Hello, sir. This’s “Big News” Morgans!”

 

_Three days earlier_

Sanji was writing and rewriting the recipe for the staff in his office which the Marimo coincidentally claimed it as his lair to take a nap during the daylight when he had no place to be. Sanji was thinking about the dessert menu to serve the guests in the anniversary when he remembered something.

“Oi, Marimo. Wake up.” Sanji threw a paperweight at the sleeping moss on the sofa. He aimed for the head, but the tanned arm reached out to catch it before the paperweight could hit its owner in the face. Shame.

Still resting his eye, Zoro grumbled out, “What?”

“Didn’t you say Luffy wanted a cake?”

“Maybe, it has been a year. He may already forget about it. He is Luffy,” mumbled the moss head, still trying to sleep.

“Not about food. What’s kind of cake he wants?”

“Don’t know. He only said cake. Just call him.”

“Thank you for your useless help.”

Zoro was already snoring obnoxiously.

Sanji gave the snoring swordsman a dirty look before dialing to the Franky House. A month ago, Thousand Sunny had to dock at Water 7 for its annual check and repair. Sanji supposed that Franky and Nami-san were still residing in Franky’s house and hopefully Luffy would choose to stick around.

He didn’t but Franky said he boarded Bartolomeo’s boat a week ago and Bartolomeo conveniently had a portable Den Den Mushi on his ship to broadcast his fanboying over Luffy. Franky did ask for his snail number in cases Luffy caused troubles again. Such a faith they had for their captain.

“Why do you need to talk to him, bro?”

“It’s a surprise that I’m preparing. You will learn about it soon!” Sanji promised.

“Superrr! I’m looking forward to it!” The cyborg said, sounding genuinely excited. At least, someone was really enthusiastic about his forthcoming celebration. Unlike a certain old man sulking somewhere in the lobby, terrorizing people for some reason only gods knew.

Bartolomeo picked up the snail on the first ring.

“Oi, Sanji's speaking. Is Luffy there?”

The inhuman gushing had continued for five minutes (something along this line “Sanji-sempai is calling Luffy-sempai on my ship! Wait until you hear this, Cavendish, you loser!”), before the familiar voice of his captain was on the phone.

“Hey, Sanji!!!”

Sanji grinned. He missed this man. He didn’t realize how much he did until he heard Luffy’s voice again.

“Hey, you rubber menace.”

His captain’s cheerful voice could be heard through the snail and the Marimo immediately lifted his head to look at the source. Sanji put Luffy on the speaker, knowing that the swordsman would want to hear his captain as well, especially after the five years of not seeing each other.

“Oi, Luffy. You are the first person outside of my staff and the moss to know this but I’m preparing an anniversary—“

“PARTY!! YAYYYY!! CAN I COME?!” Luffy yelled.

The two men on the office chuckled together at his child-like excitement.

“Of course, idiot. I’m planning to invite you all. I just want to ask you personally about something. I’m baking a cake for a ceremony--”

“CAKE!! FINALLY!!”

“Stop interrupting me or you won’t get any!”

“Prince-san, please give me my cake!” cried the Pirate King.

“Yes, that’s what I want to ask; what’s kind of cake you want?”

“Of course, it has to be a wedding cake, Sanji! I want it big and with many flavors as possible!!”

A normal cook would point out to Luffy that a wedding cake was for a wedding ceremony and might not be appropriate to be served at a restaurants’ anniversary but Sanji never catered for normal people. Also, he had seen Luffy’s weirder food requests and dutifully fulfilled them all as his ship cook. So, the cook and the swordsman didn’t even blink at their Pirate King’s out-of-the-blue demand for a wedding cake and shrugged it off as the man being glutton who wanted the biggest cake to gorge on. Luffy’s motto when food was concerned was always the bigger, the better, anyway.

“Got it, Captain.”

 

Luffy grinned at Bartolomeo and his crew who were standing around the Pirate King and the Den Den Mushi he just hung up, trembling in anticipation of whatever he was going to say.

“Shishishi, Sanji and Zoro are inviting all of us to the party!”

“What’s for the occasion, Luffy-sama?” asked one of the crew because his captain was too busy choking on his own saliva.

“Anni—something but there is going to be the biggest wedding cake ever!”

A beat and then the cheer thunderously erupted.

Bartolomeo howled like a wounded animal, tear spilling down his cheeks like a waterfall.

“What a day! What a great day! Today, my ship’s just witnessed one of the most important events ever in the history of pirates! Zoro-sempai and Blackleg-sempai, the right hand and the left hand of the great Pirate King are going to wed and they called Luffy-sempai and it happened on my ship!!!”

 

The news of the wedding spread around the globe in a day. It was such impressive speed that could only be achieved when there were hundreds of pirate fleets under the flag of the Strawhats alliance going over every island to announce the marriage.

The news reached the ear of one man. he was one of the most powerful men of the Underworld, the one who was the first to crown Luffy the fifth emperor many years ago. The man’s name was Morgans.

This piece of the news they received had caused his World Economy News Office on fire for two days as his team split into two, fighting over the credibility of the unbelievable news.

“If it’s true, it’s going to be one of the most historical events of the pirate era! We have to publish this fast or we will be left behind!” One of the editorial team debated.

“But it’s so unbelievable, it could be fake!” The other objected.

“I agree it’s too suicidal! To just announce their wedding openly for the Marine to find and get them. Even Gol D. Roger decided to marry in secret!”

“But everything about the Strawhats is unbelievable!”

 Morgans put his feathery hand on the desk to signal them to stop. “Let’s call them to verify the news!”

 

“Is it true, sir, that the strongest swordsman Roronoa Zoro and BlackLeg Sanji are to marry at your establishment?!”

_Ho._

The old chef hummed after he heard all the story from the journalist. He played with his mustache, calmly analyzed the cards in his hand. He was not in a hurry to answer, knowing whoever on the other side of the world would wait.

Finally, he decided on his turn.

“I don’t think it matters.” 

“!?!”

Zeff's eyes glinted with mischief.

“What could be different if they marry or not? That two idiots have been living together for **five years** , haggling like the old married couple and that swordsman is practically eating from the Eggplant’s hand,” Zeff underlined, grinned at himself when he heard the furious sounds of note-taking on the other side of the line. “Nothing gonna change between them, I tell ya. But yeah, I remember we are going to hold **a celebration** in the next two months.”

Zeff hung up the phone and went to one of the cooks who was assigned to contact the newspaper for buying the advertising space.

“Don’t bother your head with it,” The eldest chef gently pat the staff's shoulder as he walked into the kitchen, humming an old tune, while the chefs looked at him, all confused and wary.

 

“BIG NEWS!” Morgans hollered at his team.

“They are already living together!” screamed one of the news writers. The whole office chorused, “They are going to marry!”

 

29. 

While Morgans's team was having a field day, meanwhile, in a tailor shop on Marimo Island, a man was being tortured. 

Zoro stood still in a small changing stall, looking dead from the inside and thinking what had he done wrong to lead him to this kind of fate. What he was sure was that he was tricked by the sly fox, who because of him, Zoro had to end up in this pansy dress store.

The cook opened the curtain to roll his eyes at him and to give him a fucking three-piece suit, two dress shirts and a few ties for Zoro to try out.

"Kill me."

“Don’t be dramatic. The sooner you get your ass in that suit, the sooner it’s over. Now pick.” The cook lifted two hangers of dress shirts for him to choose. It was a lie, a trap to give a delusional sense of having choices when in reality, whatever he picked didn’t matter because the cook would force him into trying the other one anyway.

Seeing the moss head refused to move like a self-righteous child, the blonde chef decided that he could waste no more time as he had a basket full of shirts and pants outside waiting for the stubborn overgrown child to try out, and pulled out the trump card.

“Come on, Marimo. If you behave, I will let you come with me to sample the wine we are going to serve in the ceremony. And I _ordered_ a lot.”

Sanji let the offer sink in. He saw the battle going on in Zoro's grey eye but he knew the alcohol card always, always worked on Zoro.

When the moss’s scruffy face brightened up, which to normal people still looked like his usual poker face because it was the molecular change that wasn’t visible to the naked eyes, Sanji knew he had got the man to be pliant for an hour or two before he started throwing a fist again.

“Tsk.” Zoro said, took the suit, one of the shirts and a random tie from Sanji’s hands and closed the curtain of his cubicle.

 

He emerged from the changing stall forty minutes later in a silver grey suit and a pine green dress shirt, sans the tie which he was still struggling with it. Sanji laughed – like a mother of a boy on his first ball – and got up from his chair to help out the incompetent moss.

Zoro watched in awe as pale and long fingers of the chef worked nimbly to give him a fancy knot he’d never be able to do it by himself.

“Here you are,” The blonde chef said and stepped back to look at the swordsman standing awkwardly in his suit, inspecting the tie knot like it was a puzzle. It was so unfair that the man who acted like a dork managed to look like a god, strong and beautiful, without ever trying. And grey did compliment his eye and bronzed skin so deliciously. Sanji felt his knees weakening and panicked because his legs WERE his weapon. They weren’t supposed to collapse on themselves. He wasn’t a one-day-old lamb!

“I know that a suit can make anyone look better even a savage like you,” Sanji coughed out, trying to conceal his mental breakdown. _Don’t_ _burst out that he’s looking good! Don’t burst out that he’s looking good!_ _Shut your mouth before it’s too late!_

“Are you sure that this is necessary?” asked the moss, oblivious to Sanji’s problem. Zoro adjusted a button on his cuffs, looking thoughtful. “I can wear your staff’s suit, you know. It’s cheaper.”

“Why would I let you do that?” Sanji frowned.

Zoro lifted his eye from his wrist to look at Sanji and explained,

“This is a thousand-Berri suit that I’ll wear for once and you know it – You don't have to pay for it. I’ll be fine in any suits.”

Sanji's heart softened at the Marimo's consideration.

"And my balls chafed."

“You are an absolute idiot.”

“Oi!!”

 

30. 

The tomorrow newspapers’ headlines read:

_**The Marriage of the Monsters!** _

_The engagement is announced between Roronoa Zoro, the strongest swordsman in the world and the right-hand man of the Pirate King, and Vinsmoke “Black Leg” Sanji of the Strawhat Pirate! Sources say the infamous couple has spent five years after the disbandment of the most powerful pirate band of the era living together in Black Leg’s home place, the floating restaurant, Baratie, where the wedding ceremony is going to take place in the next two months. Pirate ships around the world are sure to be heading to the restaurant, including the King of Pirates himself, to be witness to the marital union of the decades! Chaos is absolutely guaranteed. The world has been woken up from stagnancy and we cannot be more excited!!! Read more page 3._

_The exclusive scoop on the couple’s secret domestic life on the floating ship, page 11._

 

The whole world now knew about the marriage. With the exception of the soon-to-weds, themselves.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or, in which Sanji and Zoro planned the wedding but didn't know they planned the wedding. The world corrected them.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for the comments and support! I feel loved. In celebration of the Zosan's reunion in the recent manga, I decided to post this chapter. Please enjoy.

31.

The delivery of the World Economy Newspapers was done by the news seagulls. These hard-working seabirds were making sure that the newspapers were delivered to all subscribers around the world on time, in spite of the odds that were of the different time zones and the unpredictable weather of the seas their clients chose to live in.

At 5 AM, the seagull arrived at the Baratie. The sky was still dark but the floating restaurant was already awakened, the light from storm lamps and lanterns illuminating the decks where the fishermen and the cooks alike were bustling around. The morning-shift crews were up since 3 in the morning, busy and cranky, as they were bargaining, bickering and occasionally brawling with the headstrong fishermen, trying to settle for the fair prices of the goods. The noises of their haggles could be heard from miles away across the quiet sea. It was no surprise that the staff of the morning shift was the grumpiest of the lots. I mean, they had their hand full of works. After they finished restocking, they were to head to the kitchen to start the breakfast for the crew and senior chefs. Oh, and they also had to deal with some miscellaneous things, here and there, that the morning chores entailed, like playing the news bird for the newspaper.

One of the deck staff paid the bird to receive the newspaper like every day. This newspaper was going to be sent to the head chef’s office, ready for him to read when he woke up at 6. He read it every morning. But like every day, the deck staff would scan the news’s headlines first, trying to see if there was any fishy news worth gossiping over with the other crews during their break, maybe today some pretentious bastards in the Grandline finally did something scandalous --

The poor, unfortunate staff. His brain wasn’t prepared him for what he had just read as his eyeballs almost popped out of the sockets, and this wasn’t an exaggeration. He dropped the newspaper, very very petrified.

One of the cooks saw him collapse on the deck and yelled at him, “Don’t be fucking clumsy, you idiot! If the boss finds out the newspaper’s creased, you are fucking toasted!” He hurried to his fellow crewmate who apparently was on the next stage of foaming. Insensitively, he paid him no mind because daily breakdowns often happened when people had to wake up at an ungodly ass hour to work – at least this restaurant was paying them well. The scolding staff, thus, went to pick the newspaper, carefully straightening the creases and wrinkles that might happen when it was dropped. He examined it again, to make sure its conditions was still passable to be placed on their picky head chef’s desk and saw the headline in its glorious, big, bold font.

“We are going to die!!!”

 

32.

By 5.30, the cooks, the waiters, the cleaners, the errand boys and all the concerned staff, minus the senior chefs and the “couple” who thankfully were still asleep, had read the newspaper.

They all stood and sat in silence in the kitchen, sharing the grim faces and sweating like the reluctant men who were forced to participate in the illegal and dangerous assembly, except that they were the outlaws and the world government’s order was the last thing they had feared.

The problematic newspaper was placed innocently on the kitchen table which occasionally received wary glances from the participants to make sure that it was still there and not to sprout out legs and run to the boss.

Shit. That’s right. The boss.

The door to the kitchen opened causing the people inside to flinch. They heaved out a sigh of relief when seeing it was just one of them dragging a man inside. That was also when the fearful eyes turned into the glare directing at the man screaming on the floor.

“What the fuck?!” yelled the man, ‘the culprit’ whose foot and hands were tied. He was pissed. He was one of the afternoon-shift cooks. His rage was rather justified if you asked him. He had just been dragged out of his cabin. of his bed. Before his shift even started! And now it seemed he was going to be subjected to his crewmates’ crazy game. Even his instinct told him otherwise. The way they looked at him kinda unsettled him. There was no mirth in it but a resolution. Like they had prepared to have him slaughtered, stuffed and sacrificed or something.

“You are the press organizer of the anniversary, aren't you!?” Accused one of the hysteric cooks who stood behind the grilling station and was pointing an iron skewer at him. It caught the culprit cook off guard because it was so fucking out of the blue. He opened his mouth to yell his confusion but someone thrust a newspaper on his face which made him accidentally inhaled the smell of the newspaper ink. He coughed and glared back but his eyes caught the words written in the newspaper.

As he read, the gears in his head were turning crazily. When it clicked, the culprit finally understood the gravity of the situation he was in. Then, he saw the people whom he called friends, who were now looking at him with the murderous intent, with their pitchforks raising and torching burning bright. That and also his life was in real danger right now.

“It wasn’t me!!!” the afternoon cook cried out.

“If it wasn’t you, then who?! You are the one Head Chef has trusted to deal with the press. You can’t just pull this shitty prank and get away!” One of the furious cooks pointed his knife at him.

“Let put his head on a silver plate and hope the boss will be forgiving!” said one of the waiters whose suggestion gained many murmuring agreements with.

“It WASN’T me!!” the culprit-turning-scapegoat screamed, thrashing desperately to get himself out of the rope as his body was lifted and carried to the table to be field-dressed.

"Think twice or get diced for your shitty mistake!" Sang the other staff.

In the pure horror and desperation, the scapegoat shouted,

“I swear by Owner Chef’s mustache and everything that is holy, I didn’t do it!”

The gods were perhaps on his side on that morning because his Nakama wasn’t too far gone to not hear his plead. Everyone paused from what they were doing or prepared to be doing to the innocent culprit.

“Let hear him out!” They said and stopped. Because in this sea, swearing to the owner chef’s facial hair could never be taken lightly. Lying and you would soon be a dead man.

“If you didn’t, then who!?” demanded the cooks, while dropping the culprit on the floor.

“The fuck do I know!” cursed the culprit who just had a near-death experience but never forgot he was a foul-mouthed sailor. Panting and still tied, he slowly crawled his way to the furthest wall, away from the bloodthirsty men he called his crew who a minute ago was prepared to gut him alive. “I was told by the owner-chef to leave it and I haven’t touched a single anniversary work since yesterday’s afternoon!”

The mention of the owner-chef did sober down the witch hunt. After a brief pause to run their brains over for some good explanation, some of the staff had stumbled upon the memory of the surreal afternoon which their owner-chef who had been sulking for a week, suddenly became too friendly. He even hummed a toon! And it all started after the talk he had with some mysterious person on Den Den Mushi.

“Guys, I think the scapegoat is right…”

The room went eerie silence after that.

In the end, they came up with the conclusion -- that they were still fucked but badly. This was the most awkward predicament they were ever in because if it was the owner-chef who pulled this stunt, what could they do?! They couldn’t just out the big boss to save their hide! It was like choosing between the legendary peg leg and the flammable one, both equally painful which they were looking forward to neither of them.

“We are going to die!”

Their future was that grim.

 

33.

The staff unanimously reached the agreement on that they don’t want to do death.

After three barrels of rum was gone, they found in them the courage to declare, “we will be fine as long as the head chef doesn’t find out this newspaper exists!!”

“It doesn’t exist!” sang the others, raising their mugs.

One of them, whose bravery was dubious but was certainly the drunkest of the lot took the newspaper and threw it into the sea, while everyone cheering him on.

 

34.

“The bird flu?” Sanji stopped stirring a cup of coffee in his hand to look at the errand boy who stood somewhat nervously in front of him.

“Y—yes, head chef! One of the sailors told us that the birds have caught the naaastiest flu ever! And no bird is available to deliver the news until… the next week, sir! Or maybe longer!” Rambled the young staff.

 _Weird,_ thought Sanji. No, he didn’t mean about the sick birds. _They are hiding something from me_.

When he didn’t find the newspaper on his desk, he summoned the staff to ask that perhaps they might forget it. Actually, it wasn’t the big deal until the errand boy arrived at Sanji’s office like he drew the short straw and had to be here to receive a death sentence. Sanji sipped his coffee, keeping his poker face up while regarding the squirming boy. Sanji understood that he wasn’t close to the crew – they never shared the bond with him like his Strawhats – because of the responsibilities and the boundary Sanji intentionally set to separate him from them. But he was never a negligent captain. He cared for them, well, enough to be confident about how his subordinates’ minds worked.

He knew that they had a tendency to exaggerate about _things_ that Sanji could and would do. Sometimes it was flattery because they were proud of him and wanted to brag about their captain’s prowess but sometimes their imagination was downright ridiculous. Like those times the senior cooks scared the newbies on board, spreading rumors of what kinds of terrifying things Sanji would do to them if they messed up, making Sanji the sea bogyman.

It wasn’t like he would make them lick the deck clean if they screwed up the soup, he thought, annoyed.

Well, he would _make_ them lick the deck if they actually screwed up the soup because that was their fucking job, how could they fuck up? But he wouldn’t – skin them alive? No one was perfect and Sanji wasn’t that unreasonable. The punishment should be in proportion to the crime.

Anyway, it started to get really uncomfortable to watch his subordinate turning himself into a cheese twist. Sanji, thus, decided whatever they were trying to hide from him must not be important to warrant his attention. Maybe they just lost the newspaper and panicked. It wasn’t like Sanji needed to read it badly. He may miss some gossipy celeb news but that was all.

The head chef put the empty cup on its saucer and waved his hand off to dismiss the boy. “You may go.”

He hadn’t seen someone running away from him this fast and pondered whether he had been too hard on his crew.

 

35.

Sanji glared at the tall stacks of papers, realizing why he needed the newspapers in the first place. Now, he had no excuse to dawdle. He glared again at the paperwork, hoping they would burn to ashes by themselves. They didn’t.

Sanji groaned and leaned back on his chair. The swivel chair, one that he bought from his last visit to the island to get the Neanderthal something decent to wear. Tentatively, Sanji spun the chair, letting it swirl in a circle. He let out a grin. It was such a good chair. Also, the last visit was very successful. He got many things on his to-do lists cross out, mainly getting rid of the Marimo’s old rags and buying him a new wardrobe.

_Good Sanji. Well done, Sanji._

The chair stopped spinning but Sanji spun it again because he deserved it. And he could.

Thinking of Zoro somehow put a smile on his face. He had no ideas on how his brain decided to associate the mosshead’s stupid face with the anniversary. Weirdly, he was fine with that. Perhaps, he was too excited to meet everyone again to the point that even Zoro’s stoic face could be considered a part of any jovial celebrations. Though, he secretly liked that the moss looked more eager to participate with the preparations even he believed Sanji was throwing it to honor his crew.

The stupid clueless Marimo who had no idea that this celebration was for him as well. He didn't know how much he did for this ship. For Sanji.

Sanji loved his job but to run a restaurant for 5 years -- it could give a man, fatigue. His life could have been more tedious, tamed and a bit boring had Zoro not been there. He just wanted to make sure that the moss didn’t feel outcast. 

For a while, Sanji had been having that one small, not at all significant, worry about the Marimo. He was 'quite' concerned that one day, the moss might wake up to realize that he didn’t belong here, and leave. Because they all knew he naturally didn’t belong here. A swordsman on a ship full of cooks. There were many activities on the ship he couldn’t join. He didn’t know nor care about cooking or sailor games and the cooks shared no interests in swordsmanship. There were many islands that Zoro was more wanted and would be welcomed if he so chose. But Zoro remained with the Baratie. Unfortunate was Sanji for the longer he stayed, the larger Sanji’s insecure bubble grew. Even he knew Zoro was a solitary animal who liked to have a distance between himself and the crowd most of the time, insecurities heeded no man’s logic.

He **wanted** the man to feel belong here.    

It was part of his fault for planting himself stubbornly on Sanji’s ship for 5 years, making Sani see his presence the normalcy.

 

36.

Zoro washed his face on the sink, trying to get rid of sluggishness. He felt stubbles on his chin. He might have to make a visit to the cook’s chamber to borrow his razor again, probably tonight. Zoro shuddered at the thought. Whenever he was there to borrow something from Sanji, it always ended with the cook holding the thing he wanted in his hand, refusing to give it to him unless Zoro bathed first. It wasn’t like Zoro was against the idea of bathing but he was a man. A man who was capable of making a decision for himself… who wasn’t doing great in exercising his free will lately.

 Zoro walked to the wardrobe, yawned and opened it. He shook his head at the garments tightly packed inside. The cook must be so proud of his little success for wasting money on unnecessary shits. Zoro also wanted to question himself why he let the cook do that to him in the first place but it was the matter for another time. It was 9.30 AM and he felt like a coffee. A cup of Iris coffee with the generous help of Brandy would do nicely to his sleepy mind. He would do some thinking later.

 

The swordsman had absolutely no idea why he would need so many clothes and what’s to do with it, he also never heard about mixing and matching outfits before. He did what was making sense to him which was to randomly grab something from the hangers and be done with it. He scolded at himself when found out he just picked a black long sleeve turtleneck -- he was never fond of long sleeve shirts; it clung to his arms, overheated him and obstructed his movements –- but he was too stubborn to backtrack and decide to bear with it. At least, he did get green military pants. Anything but a slack was a victory.

But Zoro couldn’t find his haramaki.

As he put on his boots, Zoro made his way to the kitchen to get his breakfast then he would confront the cook about his missing belly warmer. The cook would be answering his swords if he dared dump Zoro’s beloved haramaki.

 

Zoro usually used the staff’s exit door to get to the kitchen so he didn’t have to go through the main door connected to the dining hall where the customers were having meals. This meant that if the damn door didn’t move which it did and he ended up on the first-floor patio staring at the gate to the dining hall. Too hungry and annoyed to find the exit door, the swordsman pushed the door open. His plan to go unnoticeable evaporated the moment he stepped inside. The group of five ladies sitting by the window immediately locked their eyes on him like an eagle to its prey.

 “Hey, handsome over here!”

 Great.

Zoro looked around, trying to find the waiters but seeing none in the vicinity that hadn’t been busy serving or taking orders. Well, he had choices; he could ignore the women but he doubted they wouldn’t make the scene, drawing more attention to him. He braced himself, taking a deep breath and walking to their table.

“I’m not a waiter here,” he told them but realized that it might come out quite a blunt. “But I can pass on your order to the staff if you want,” he added, hoping he sounded polite enough. He was never good at playing nice and smiling, especially to women -- that was the cook’s job, not him.

The girls, however, let out high-pitched giggles which he guessed mean they were happy? But the way they were looking at him under their eyes lashes made Zoro want to shudder.

“Oh, god, he’s so hot!” the ginger head whispered to her friends like Zoro wasn’t just standing there watching them gossip about him like he was a piece of meat. He didn't like it. The longer he stood there, the more it drained off his life source. 

“I’m so jealous, right now!” the black-head one sighed.

“But the other one is cute too!” the blond one reminded her friends. They looked at each other knowingly and cooed. “They are so cute!”

Yup, Zoro wasn’t really born for this. 

“Oi, if you don’t want anything, I’m going.”

“Please wait! Oh, we just want to give you our congratulations!” The redhead girls beamed, taking no offends to his snappy attitude. 

Zoro frowned, “For what--“

“Zoro-sannnnnnn, you must be hungry!”

Suddenly, a group of the waiters popped up behind him, almost from thin air. It startled the girls. Zoro turned to look at them confusingly, catching on the panic in their voice. One of the waiters saw the girls looking like they still want to talk to Zoro and decided to deviate their attention from him, “Ma’am what may I help you, need more tea? ready to order your desserts? Apologies for making you wait, anything you desire!”

Meanwhile, Zoro was not-so-gently pushed back into the kitchen where the cooks greeted him politely, giving him a glass of wine and fetching him the breakfast he usually had to collect by himself. Even Zoro was thankful for them for saving him from the women, they did act funny today.

 

The incident didn’t miss the eyes of the curious senior chefs, though.

“Why the fuck you lot act like a herd of scaredy-cats today?” Patty scratched his head, looking at his subordinates who literally jumped at his remark.

“We are fine, chef!” the cooks replied with the nervous laughter.

Zeff cackled mischievously from his soup station. The simple-minded idiots. They were so easy.

He knew the staff would try to hide the news from the Eggplant in fear of the brat grilling their asses which, to be honest, wasn’t a far-fetched possibility. He had been the pain in everyone’s asses since the preparation started, screeching and tolerating no single mistakes. Like a bridezilla, except he was no bride, and too stupid to realize he was going to get married.

The staff’s scheme to keep the Eggplant in the dark wouldn’t last very long. The cat would be out of the bag. Give or take a couple of days, the shitty brat would stress himself and then he would want to leave the boat to shop for himself and the greenhead kid again.

Nonetheless, the idiots did do the work for him even they had no idea about it, giving Zeff more than enough time to try cracking the other egghead brat whom he hoped wouldn’t be too stupid to not see the obvious.

 

37.

Zoro took a tray of his breakfast and used the exit door to go eat his food outside, alone. Sanji and he had breakfast separately because, by the time Zoro got up, the cook already finished his breakfast. Their different working hours -- Zoro and his nightly fishing, the cook and his day job– made it impossible for them to wake up at the same time.

But it was fine. Zoro treasured having a quiet time for himself. He liked eating his breakfast in solitude, in the crow nest where no human could bother him with chitchats. He always liked it up here.

He enjoyed the caress of the sea breezes on his hair and face and the view was also nice. Blue, calm and infinite. On one fine day, it was hard to tell where the sky ended and the sea began, they were all blue, like its name. The cook was better at words than him. Zoro could picture him saying some profound about the scenery, wagging poems about it. Only if the bastard could take his ass out of the office to come to appreciate the sea that he did discover.

 

Zoro slowly munched on his rice balls. So far, his morning was good, normally good. It would have been better though if he had found some good booze for his sea appreciation. The cook usually kept his cupboard full to prevent Zoro from raiding the wine cellar. He might be really busy to forget to restock. Zoro added it to one of the things he had to complain to the cook tonight.

As he was pondering, the swordsman felt the mast shaking slightly. he closed his eye and focused. It was caused by a kick, a good one. He felt no malice in the kick and from its signature force, the kicking technique was almost identical to the cook’s fighting style but not quite strong to be one of his teasing kicks. And there were just two people in the ship who kicked. He just wondered what Zeff wanted from him this time.  

Zoro’s relationship with the cook’s father was never explicitly defined. He guessed it was neutral at most? He admired Zeff, though. In Zoro’s book, whoever raised the cook deserved all the praises but he never talked about it and Zeff wasn’t exactly a talkative man, always conveying his feelings through actions which Zoro couldn’t help but agree with his method. So, they didn't just talk. They coexisted. Their interactions had always been minimal, out of necessity, and Sanji-oriented.

He looked down from his spot, trying to gauge what the man wanted. From the deck, Zeff hollered.

“Where the heck is your manner!? In my time, people don’t greet their elder from a crow nest-- get your ass down here!”

Zoro unconsciously scurried down as he was told, almost landing on his ass which wasn’t actually cool for a man of his status. He quickly got up and glared at the shorter old man to cover up his embarrassment. Zeff looked at the dented spot on the deck where Zoro landed and gave the swordsman his unimpressed stare.

“One day, you careless oaf will be the cause of this ship to founder; the Eggplant will have a hissy fit.”

Zoro crossed his arms defensively, “I know how to control my body.”

Zeff snorted but dropped the subject. That was when Zoro noticed that the old man didn’t come barehanded. He had a bottle of aged Brandy with him. The golden liquor looked divinely alluring.  

“Let’s talk, kid,” Zeff grinned, knowing he now had the alcoholic swordsman’s undivided attention.

 

38.

They found a quiet corner on the second-floor patio. Zeff sat on the chair while Zoro made himself comfortable on the ground, leaning his back on the wall. He offered the booze to the old man to have the first sip because Roronoa Zoro knew how to be respectful to the seniors, mind you. Even the only etiquette he knew was the drinking etiquette.

Zeff laughed heartily, genuinely appreciating the young man's offer.

“No, thank. You keep all of it. I have this.” The old chef pulled out a cigar from the ivory tube. Zoro watched with interests as Zeff prepared his cigar, cutting it with a weird cutter (" _It’s called a guillotine, boy"_ ). He was no smoker and saw no point in inhaling smokes when booze was much more fulfilling, but there was something reverent about the way that cigar was prepared. The old man looked cool.

“What?” Zeff asked, feeling the boy’s stare on him.

“Never saw you smoke before," he said. He said the old man drank multiple times but never once smoked.

“Who do you think gave the Eggplant the stupid idea to destroy his lungs in the first place? Trying to cut back, though. Proud of the progress, then doc said now I should try sober up too, the prick.”

Zoro let out a fainted smile because the story made him think of a certain doctor. He didn’t know what to say to the old man so he took a swig of the brandy and almost moaned because it was such a great brandy. “This’s good.”

“Of course, it is. Who do you think taking care of all the booze on this ship? The Eggplant? Don’t make me laugh.”

They both snickered. The cook possessed a vast knowledge of alcohols and how to use them in cooking but still couldn’t drink to save his ass.

“How could a good drinker like you raised such a lightweight?”

“Trying to do some parenting yourself, boy. You’d soon learn that even the parent cannot control his child’s shit tastes.”

“Fair enough.”

“Still, good for his liver.”

Zoro chucked a generous gulp of brandy and sighed happily. “I couldn’t imagine my life without booze. I salute you for your strong resolution, then.” He nodded to the smoking old man on the chair next to him. Zeff shrugged. “It’s not that hard -- All you ever need is to start thinking carefully what you really need in your life, boy.”

“I just need this,” Zoro said, staring at the booze in his hand adoringly.

“For the man who aims for the very top he prepared to die for, you are ridiculously modest at living the life.”

The bottle froze against his lips. Zoro furrowed his brows as he was pretty sure he had just been scolded for no reasons. Without a warning, the somewhat amiable atmosphere between them had changed. That reminded him; the old man wasn’t naturally an altruistic person who was willing to give Zoro free booze without expecting something in return.

 Zoro sighed.  “What do you really want from this talk, old man?” he asked, going straight to the point, never a person to beat around the bush. Little did he know that his no-nonsense attitude was something Zeff liked about the swordsman.

“I want to make sure that you are a man who isn’t too stupid to let one life-time chance slip away when it’s staring at his stupid face.”

“I’m not stupid,” Zoro scoffed.

“How could I tell, when you look like one, speak like one and act like one?” Zeff couldn’t resist himself to mock because, in spite of the differed personalities, the Broccoli boy exuded the same energy of the Eggplant, which meant he should be bullied. Also, it was always fun seeing the kids who tried to act cool getting embarrassed.

Zoro, on the other hand, wasn’t happy about the situation. Zeff observed him, seeing him sulking silently. However, it was abruptly changing into a real irritated one. But it wasn’t the one for Zeff. He watched as the swordsman stood up and walked away from the corner of the patio they had sat for half an hour, to look down at the ruckus happening on the decks below. His curiosity was piqued.

A ship was departing from the restaurant’s decks, on board was a group of loud, pompous bastards that were dumping their trashes on the sea while jeering and hollering at the angry waiters, thinking they were out of the reach of the fighting staff.

“Stinky restaurant on the stinky sea!” They sneered.

Well, it wasn’t Zeff’s first time to witness feuds between his staff and arrogant customers who thought they were gods. And sadly, it wasn’t his first time either to see customers dumping garbage on the sea whether they intended it or not. Even the legendary sea couldn’t escape man’s pollution.

It saddened him that some ungrateful pricks could sail to this beautiful sea now. The Eggplant was distraught. They made big signs around the ship telling customers not to dump their shit into the sea. Most of them followed. But there were always the idiots. Like this group who chose to ignore it.

Whose boat was cut in half.

Zeff saw the shitty customers’ victorious expression morphed into the one of horror as their ship was sinking. They were screaming and pleading for help, having no choices but to swim back to the decks where the waiters were cracking their knuckles, waiting to gut them.

Zeff snorted at the pathetic sight below.

_Clink._

The sound of the blade slipped back into its saya. Standing beside Zeff, the swordsman watched the scene below like nothing happened. And Zeff realized he didn’t even _see_ the man unsheathe his sword in the first place.

“What? They trashed the shit cook’s sea,” Zoro said when he realized he was being watched, thinking he was going to get another scold for destroying the customers’ ship.

 

When he ploughed the seas as the fearsome pirate, Zeff never thought one day he would become a father. He lived in the present and let his future be decided by fate. When it gave him a son, as confused as he was back then, he accepted. It turned out to be the greatest gift that ever been granted to his life. Thinking back, there were small signals here and there that Lady Fortuna was telling him to buckle up for the upcoming brat.

If the godforsaken rock made him realize the starving runt was the son he needed, this ship incident might be fate telling him again that this dumb idiot was the son-in-law he’d want.

 

 39.

Zoro was frustrated. He hated losing. He was never the man to shy away from fights, say it was sword fighting or verbal quarreling. The cook knew first-hand that he was the man who gave as good as he got. But that was one thing about fighting a person of your equal and fighting his father. Even more, he was confused by Zeff’s baffling words. Did he just imply that there was something out there that Zoro needed in his life and failed to get it? Something that even he himself didn’t know it.

“Bullshit,” said Zoro to the wind. What kind of a man would he be if he didn’t know himself? He would know what he wanted. He always knew what he wanted or else how he supposed to control his fate? The old man was full of shits.

But he couldn’t shake the old man’s taunt off his head.

He skipped the lunch to meditate but found no answer to his restlessness.

 

Zoro woke up when the sky was dark. He climbed down from the crow nest and went to the kitchen for his dinner. A certain some cook shared a similar idea to skip lunch like Zoro, according to the kitchen staff. The cook had been absent the entire day, locking himself up in his personal kitchen, and working. It was likely that he might not be planning to come out for dinner as well.

 

Zoro found the cook in his room, wrapping up himself in blankets like a giant cocoon with crumbled and littered papers on the floor.

“You skipped dinner.”

He heard the unintelligible noises coming out from the cocoon.

“Are you dead yet?”

“I wish so,” the cook lamented, popping his head out of the blankets to look at him tiredly. Someone clearly didn't have a good day.

“Shame.”

Zoro went to place a plate of sandwiches on the cook’s head who returned his nice-ness by scrutinizing Zoro’s attire.

“Are you blind?”

“My eye is working fine, shit cook.”

“Yes, you are,” said the cook, pretending not to hear him, “turtlenecks are to wear with slacks, you fucking fashion nightmare.”

 “My crotch will suffer.”

 “That's why there is baby powder.”

“Isn’t baby powder for a baby?”

 “I’m living with a caveman,” Sanji mumbled to himself, resigned.

“And I’m living with a prince of a stupid kingdom,” Zoro fired back. Sanji bristled and wriggled out of the blanket cocoon, possibly planning to kick him, all the while balancing the plate on his head which was quite an impressive sight if Zoro wasn’t used to seeing him doing it for years. No, that wasn’t what made Zoro’s jaw dropped. Or made his brain circuits fired.

The cook. He was wearing Zoro’s green coat. He wore it like a sleeping gown without nothing else.

“You…is that my cloth?”

The cook blushed, cursing himself under his breath. How could he be this careless to be caught? By the Marimo, of all people.

“You disowned it. I took it. It’s mine now. And knock the door next time.”

“You always burst into my room, shitty cook. Where is my haramaki? Are you wearing my haramaki inside my coat?"

“It **IS** my cloth now and I never wear that disgusting thing. I washed it. In fact, I accidentally washed it along with all my sleepwear. This thing happened to be available around.”

“Very convenient.”

“Indeed. Drop it or get lost.”

 Zoro still had to borrow the cook’s razor which was why he couldn’t corner the cook. The embarrassed Sanji was the least cooperating Sanji.

He changed the topic.

“What made you lying on the bed like a loser before I came, Blondie?”

The cook hesitated and let out a sigh looking troubled, “I tested the recipes for Luffy’s cake. The results weren’t satisfactory. The anniversary is approaching and I’ve yet had all the things figured out!”

 “What’s wrong with the cake?”

  
“Many.”

“So you went to bed earlier to sulk.”

“No, idiot. I’m writing a letter.” Sanji, then fetched out his notebook and a quill from under the blanket.

“Huh?”

“Well, I’m a cook, not a pâtissier. I think maybe it’d be wise to consult one. Perhaps she could give me a bit of solid advice.”

Zoro didn't like the direction they were heading. "Who?"

“My Pudding-chan.”

“I’m not eating the woman’s cake.” Zoro immediately drew the line, without thinking.

Sanji gawked, completely speechless. "Are you insane?! I need all the help I could get!"

“Look, you have time, stupid. Don’t rush. I’ll help,” suggested casually the moss as if his half-ass excuses of help could be compared to Pudding-chan’s wisdom but Sanji didn't want to burden the sweet lady with his unworthy requests.

“As if a dumb animal like you can,” Sanji huffed but he didn’t shot down the offer. But baking was the topic Zoro was the least qualified to help. He doubted he could be any of help. But Sanji would let the man entertain the thought of being useful.

 

40.

To other people, Sanji was a gifted chef. Only a few knew how many hours he spent in the kitchen. A technique that he effortlessly commanded, that impressed many onlookers, Zoro knew how hard it took the cook, who practiced over and over, to perfect it.

 Zoro was one of the few the cook allowed to witness his failure; he viewed it as a symbol of trust. And he wanted to monopolize this privilege.

Zoro sat on the cook’s dressing table, flipping to the cook’s notebook while the cook was nibbling on his sandwich on the bed. You had to trust someone like the cook who went on to write an entire book about cake recipes. From the notes, Luffy’s wedding cake had 8 tiers of different flavors. It seemed Sanji plan to dedicate each tier to every Strawhats. The cook wanted it to be special. After all, it was their first reunion in 5 years.

 “Your handwriting is as scrawny as you,” Zoro commented, trying to be a critic. The cook glared at him.

The first page discussed Luffy’s cake. It read:

_He eats everything. The indulgence chocolate cake recipe will do that glutton: cocoa powder and chocolate bars *East-Blue import only*, maybe add a little splash of chocolate liquor to give the moistest cake of its rich chocolate-y flavor…_

Zoro’s eye widened at the size of Luffy’s cake that the cook planned to bake.

“Do you even have an oven large enough to bake the cake which’s the size of a small boat?”  
“Already commissioned it to be made. Next.”

“Don’t you think you overdo it?”  
“I don’t do thing half-ass, third-rate swordsman.”

 

 Next was the sea witch’s cake, (“ _my sweet Nami-san!_ ”)

 _Unlike that gluttonous buffoon of a captain, my sea goddess has a delicate taste but years of servitude to the sweetest, most beautiful navigator has prepared me for the job…_ (blah blah) _She loves tangerines and fruits; a chiffon orange cake: orange juice, orange zest and_ _Grand Mariner for the fragrance and flavor. Tarty and sweet the way she adores. Finishes with candied clementines and almond slices._

“There are spots on the page. Eiw, did you drool over it, pervert cook?”

“Shut up.”

 

_Usopp is not picky about food, will eat anything as long as it isn’t poisonous. He loves to play with food Banoffee cake with a special caramel recipe: sticky and bendable. Dark rum, fresh banana slices, and salted caramel…_

Zoro was impressed by how the cook memorized their Nakama's favorites and table habits to details. But there was one thing in his mind...

“Did you pick this cake because banana resembles Usopp’s long nose?”

“No! Well…partly.”

Zoro snickered.

 

 _Chopper’s cake is easy to design for. Cotton candy cake: colorful and sweet. A classic vanilla cake *real vanilla beans* Fluffiest, spongey cake with caramelized popcorns_ _, candies, chocolate bonbons, and pink cotton candy. Perhaps a splash of bourbon…_

“Did you plan to add bourbon in Chopper’s cake?!”

“Shit. did I?!”

“No alcohol in Chopper’s cake," Zoro said.

“No alcohol in Chopper’s cake," Sanji repeated.

 

So far, he didn’t see the problem in the cake, the cook had it all figure out. He flipped the page and from spots of dried saliva, he knew whose the next cake design belonged to.

 _My Robin-chan (_ suspicious kiss-mark-like stains _) likes her dessert not overly sweet. Cinnamon coffee cake: a cup of brewed coffee to add into the batter along with brandy and cinnamon. The spice to underline the sweetness of the buttery cake and the bitterness of the coffee._

 

From many crossed-out ideas, Zoro saw how the cook struggled with Franky’s. But he seemed to come up with some ideas that satisfied him at last.

_He is the tricky one. Loves everything that is greasy and goes well with cola – that hardly works well on a cake – that unless you are a lesser cook, which I’m not. A birthday cake with creative tweaks. In the batter, adds whiskey, cola extract, a generous amount of sprinkles. Blue buttercream frosting, more sprinkles, pretzels, and salted potato chips._

“Unbelievable. Did you just compliment yourself on your note?”

“Shut up. I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

 

_Brook will get an iris tea cake with dried fruits and nuts soaked well in his favorite tea brand. Almonds and hazelnuts are good for his bones, high in calcium. A bit of rum._

From the trend, the next page was supposed to be Zoro’s but it was blank with a few pages being ripped off.

“Where is my cake design?”

 Sanji looked utterly ashamed, wearing the face of a man whose pride was wounded. Zoro grinned because he was a bastard who couldn't pass a chance to rub it in his rival's face. “So, you’re stuck because you didn’t know what to get for me? We've lived together, cook. I’m heartbroken.”

“Shut up! Shut up! It isn’t my fault that your heart’s so black that you dislike sweets!”

“Jeeh, don’t get your panty in a twist. It’s just a cake. Just get me whatever you want to make," said Zoro, trying to pacify the cook. 

Sanji straightened himself and looked at Zoro with his visible blue eye; he was being serious. “You know it isn’t just a cake for me. This is my pride as a chef, stupid moss. I want this to be special to all of us, that includes you.” He didn't retort his statement because he wasn't cruel and knew when to stop before his teasing could seriously hurt the cook's feeling. And the cook was sensitive about cooking.

So, he diverted the flow to something in the territory of lighthearted bickerings that they both were comfortable.

“If you even train as hard as you cook, our sparring session would be much more challenging," Zoro remarked which caused Sanji's forehead veins to pop up.

“Well, even with my half-ass effort, you’re still struggling to keep up with me, Marimo. It wouldn’t look good if the world knows the strongest swordsman loses to a mere cook, right? I’m helping you here, your drunkard.”

“As if you could beat me in a thousand year – oi, I have an idea.”

“What?”

“The cake – can you make an alcoholic cake?”

 “I put alcohol in almost every cake. Be specific, Marimo.”

“No. I mean, like can you make a cake but with lots of alcohol instead of sugar, milk, and butter?”

“It’ll taste like your vomit.”

“I'll have it. Bet it tastes better than your fancy tooth decay.”

They looked at each other and laughed, thinking the other was so stupid, it was unbelievable. As if Sanji predicted Zoro was really unhelpful but perhaps it wasn't the help he sought but the company. A person who would lend him an ear. Zoro felt the laughter had chased the frustration he had had since the morning. He concluded that there was no point to try to search his mind for something he had an unclear picture about what he was looking. He guessed if something was coming up, he trusted in his instinct he could pick it. For now, he just lived.

"Oi, can I borrow your razor?"

"Only if you bath first."

 

 41.

It had been two stressful days for the staff of the Baratie, trying to keep the boss and his swordsman from the news. They distracted the swordsman with booze, hoping he would get shit-faced and be oblivious to the world (he didn’t.) Thankfully, the head chef was busy with developing a new recipe to care about anything else. For some reasons, the owner-chef didn’t intervene with their plan. Even everything went smoothly well, they felt something in their gut. Something was coming and it was going to blow up on their faces.

The bringers of the news arrived on the third day after the news had spread. On the gigantic fleet made of living sea slugs.

 

 42. 

The swordsman was the one who first spotted the Germa’s flagship. He watched from the crow nest; people on the decks were shouting about something but his focus was only on the ship. He watched. And he waited. When the vessel was in the vicinity of the floating restaurant, he jumped. His landing broke the deck, sending small wooden pieces everywhere. He could have landed on board without causing damages but he saw no reason to hold back.

Standing before him were the people he never met who looked unfazed at small destruction he caused and one looked quite amused. Zoro never met them before but he’d learned about them, or what they did, more than enough to know where his stand was on them.

“You aren’t welcome here,” stated Zoro to the Vinsmoke siblings.

“We are no enemy here,” said softly the sole woman on the ship who clearly had the highest rank in command from her relaxed posture that just oozed superiority.

“Neither we’re an ally.”

“Watch your mouth, scoundrel,” snarled the redhead man. Ichiji took a stand in front of his sister, protectively, the other followed suit. “Who do you think you’re talking to, peasant?!” Yonji yelled, always the hothead one of the triplets while Niji regarded the swordsman before them with contempt. He concluded, “A brute with vulgar manners. I say he’s perfect for that black sheep.”

“I think so too, but perhaps for a different reason. Boys, remember why we’re here. Play nice,” Reiju said in her kind tone that sent chill down the brothers' spines. They mumbled apologies to their sister and stepped back to stand in the background but still close to her. As much as Reiju appreciated her brothers' protectiveness. The protection wasn’t needed. They weren't here to battle, at least not now.

Zoro watched their interactions in silence. He looked uninterested and like what her second brother summarized in his “brute, vulgar,” but that was when appearances could be deceiving.

This beast. He was intelligent.

Because her brothers were bioengineered to be father's killing machines, they were always lacking this ability to read into people more than they see, leading to them to always underestimate their human opponents. But not Reiju who had spent all her life in the seas. She remembered the very first lesson she was taught of being sea nomads: never trust the calming sea.

He was brutal; it was true. But mindless he sure was not. She saw the way this man looked at them, appearing nonchalant but quietly gathering information on their body languages, analyzing their characters so he could take them down if needed. From the look, he seemed wanting too. Bloodthirsty but disciplined, an interesting combination.  Even she was quite proud of Germa’s military force after years she had spent on its reform and they had become stronger. But he was the Swordsman. He sure was going to be a handful if they really did have to fight. 

Fortunately, they didn’t have to. She didn’t travel across the world to fight her soon-to-be brother-in-law. It had been such a long time when she last saw her brother, the kind one. Whose compassion was his greatest strength, yet also his weakness. The brief moments they shared she learned how strong he had become and saw what a kind of a hothead he was, easily losing his composure when his friends were endangered. He needed someone who could be the anchor he could rely on. 

She thought he chose well. Such a specimen Sanji found.

 

Reiju gave Roronoa a sincere smile when their eyes met.

“I wish to converse with my brother preferably in a private setting if you don’t mind.”

“Why?”

“To congratulate him on his engagement, you idiot. For crying out loud, why do you think we traveled this far!?” Yonji interrupted because patience was never his strong suit. He didn’t understand why they were still standing, keeping their ground on the outside where the sun was scorching hot, having Sanji’s bloodhound glaring at them. If they weren’t going to fight the fiancé, then he was rather be invited inside the establishment with something to eat. This wasn't how guests were supposed to be treated and he was a prince!

The Vinsmokes saw the swordsman’s eye darkened after Yonji’s interjection. His stand shifted to one of his offensive forms. One sword was unsheathed with the blade pointing at them. Out of the blue, he became pissed.

"Like hell. Not this time."

“Maybe it’s time to transform, sister,” Ichiji calmly suggested his sister while the others already had their hands on the raid-suit canisters. “We might not be welcome here,” he said.

Reiju gave out a sad smile to her brother. She understood why Sanji wouldn’t want anything to do with them and had prepared her mind to be rejected. It was just. Her selfishness. That brought her brothers with her. She just wanted to see Sanji again. To see that he was happy and maybe to tell him that she tried and everyone at the Gemma tried to clean up Judge's legacy and to make their kingdom more like a kingdom and the family more like a real one, even she knew Sanji had discovered his home already. “We’re intruding, brothers. I think it’s best for us to just…”

She didn’t finish the sentence because appearing on the sky was Sanji who dropped himself beside the angry swordsman.

And kicked him in the gut.

“That’s my sister, you were pointing your sword at, you idiot!”

“I’m trying to save your ass here, shit cook! They were planning to ambush you again for another arranged marriage scheme!” The swordsman was back to his feet and yelled at Sanji.

“What?! I never need you to save me, you incompetent swordsman!”

“And who needed the saving the last time he got kidnapped, huh?”

“That wasn’t kidnapping! I was blackmailed!”

“Hey, we are still right here.” Niji waved his hand but was ignored.

After listening to their quarrel, Reiju was pretty sure something got 'significantly' lost in the translation. She cleared her throat to call for Sanji’s attention. Her golden-hair brother stopped immediately which caused the swordsman to stop as well.

“There is a misunderstanding here that I want to clarify. We are here, not in the name of Germa, but a sister, and brothers, Sanji. We just want to give you our congratulations to your engagement with Mr. Swordsman here.”

Yonji thought, _finally._

Being civilized was tiring but finally that the tension had unraveled and that they were going to be invited inside and he would have something to eat. Finally. Little did he know.

Little did he know.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** Warning: This chapter contains a few spoilers from One Piece's Wano arc (chapter 909-944)**

43. 

Oh.

Oh, shit.

Was this what the old man had been implying about on the other days? He was being cryptic as hell. How Zoro could have made the right guess?

This was what was in the swordsman’s mind after he finished reading the newspapers of the three days ago, that the Vinsmokes conveniently had in their ship and was being high-minded enough to have a servant fetch the newspapers for them to read. That, or they were growing tired of listening to the cook’s accusation of them lying, together with his faltering denial – that Zoro and he were NOT in the relationship.

 _Like being in a relationship with me is a bad thing._ _Shitty cook, thinking he’s the one who can choose. As if I WANTED to be with you._

It simply irritated Zoro no end.

Still, the final missing piece finally came together to give answers to the questions that had been bothering Zoro’s mind lately. The old man’s mysterious remark, the unsettling stare – also, the staff’s new-found servile attitude toward him which was weird as fuck. On the brighter side, all of this stuff let Zoro know that something had been off. They kinda helped him prepare his mind for whatever going to blow up when it exploded.

That was why he was just shocked and not having a cardiac arrest. It was like crashing on the ground but at the last moment getting to land on Luffy’s rubbery belly, still hurt because rubber wasn’t meant for comfort, but at least there was something between him and the ground absorbing some force from the impact. The cook, on the other hand, was oblivious, too caught up in his cooking performance issue to notice the warning signs. He took all the damages.

 Now, his face was making some color changing.

The Vinsmokes and Zoro watched as it changed from ghostly white to embarrassed red before its owner igniting himself on fire. Literally.

_Curly is always dramatic._

 

 

44.

This was **NOT** funny.

At first, he thought it was a joke. A freaking sick prank with the aim to humiliate him. Because that was the only kind of humor the Vinsmokes were capable of making. But, the worried look on Reiju's face was too sincere. Then, when the servant came back with the newspapers... 

The anniversary meant a lot to him; He made sure everyone on the ship know it. It was the important day he was looking forward to the most because they would be celebrating, and Zoro and he would be meeting their friends again. He wanted it to be perfect. For months, he had many bad dreams about the 101 ways of how the anniversary day could get fucked up. He had been working tirelessly to prevent it from being fucked up. Now, he felt like he was living in one of his nightmares. The reality just won the fucking first place and the shitty prize, because - damn his luck.

 

Sanji had handled the news like a fucking champ. No one dared say otherwise or he was gonna lose it.

How badly he wanted to close the restaurant, go back to the kitchen and fucking destroyed the bastards that had made him look like a fool in front of the fucking Vinsmokes, and, lords had mercy for them, the whole fucking world. But despite all the shits he wanted to ‘talk’ to his men right now, he was a chef. He was a professional chef. He couldn’t just kick the customers out so he could kick his employees’ asses. And despite the estranged relationships he had with his siblings, he couldn’t not invite them to eat.

“Find seats for the guests and get them the lunch menus. **Tonight, we will talk**. I want every single one of you in the kitchen by 10, got it?” He told the closest waiter who stuttered a weak "yes, sir", before hurriedly leading the Vinsmokes to their table.

 

Sanji didn’t encounter a single soul on his way to his quarter. The self-preservative bastards must have warned each other and made themselves scarce, knowing that Sanji would have kicked them to Skypia and back if he’d even spot one.

Well, they would die anyway tonight, considering this as his last act of benevolence.

What he hated the most about this whole ordeal was that it’d complicated his relationship with Zoro. He didn’t see the reaction from the moss. Moss was never an expressive species. All he ever saw was that his eye was just dark out. After that Sanji was too angry, too embarrassed, and too afraid to look at the swordsman again. He had directed all of his attention to the Vinsmokes and the staff.

_What if the idea weirds him out?_

Gods, it was so embarrassing. It was so awkward. Their friendship had been going so well. Then, this happened. He felt like the two of them had just worked things out and somehow the fucking bird with the power of media and his crew of the morons had to conspire against him. Zoro went missing on their way back to the Baratie only added the fuel to Sanji’s anxiety.

Sanji was so going to murder his crew tonight.

 

 

45.

From her chamber’s window, it seemed the crescent moon finally ascended to the sky. Its pale moonlight made the sea look so serene and shimmering. She finally found herself understanding why All Blue had occupied the mind of the sailors for hundreds of years.

It simply was breathtaking.

 _Easiest the most beautiful sea in the world_ , thought Reiju, taking a break to rest her eyes from the book to appreciate the view. Up here, she also had a good view of the floating restaurant, looking humbly small on the vast ocean, and being dwarfed by the Germa’s ship.

From up here, everything looked quiet and peaceful. But Reiju knew that there was the commotion happening right now on the floating restaurant. If her relationship with the ship’s captain was… in a better condition, Reiju would love to get down there and join them. She loved fun. But she cared more about her brother. She didn’t think he could take more stress than he’d got in his hand, and she never wanted to create more of the reasons for him to be wary of her.

When she heard the news and they made the decision to come, she had been worried that they might not be welcome or that their presence would ruin his important day. But the desire for reconciliation was stronger so they gambled, with the mind preparing for rejection. He did freak out. However, for a totally unexpected reason. It looked like the Vinsmokes’ appearance was on the last list of his concerns right now.

She didn’t know how to feel about it. But it had been an interesting day.

 

_He sought her out shortly after the dinner was finished. Because he was a considerate man who even was feeling troubled, still wanted to make sure she felt comfortable. She supposed he must get some issues solved even temporarily. He looked less distracted than he was on her ship, still stressed out and tired._

_They exchanged a few words of courtesy and when he asked about 'him',_

_“How is your father?”_

_He might look calm but talking about her father was still hard for Sanji. He disowned the name and cut all ties with Judge. He really didn’t have to ask about him; he could even outright insult him and she would understand. But he chose to ask because Judge, for all the horrible things he’s committed, was still Reiju’s father and Reiju still cared for him. Sanji cared about her feeling, so he asked about the absence of her family member. And knowing him, even he couldn’t care for that man as a son, Sanji’s heart was still big enough to care for him as a human to another human. He didn’t ask just to be polite, he was genuinely concerned._

_“I have banished him three years ago,” Reiju told him._

_He looked shocked by the revelation._

_"To the island where our mother rests for eternity, I’ve detained him there to repent his crimes.”_

_"I’m so sorry.”_

_“No. I hope he is sorry,” Reiju said firmly, “I haven’t come this long way to burden you with this heavy news. It’s your jovial time.”_

_“I feel like celebrating right now,” He sassed._

_“Still, there will be a celebration. I hope we could be there to celebrate with you.”_

_“Of course, you are invited… your brothers too if they aren’t being the big assholes. But to make it clear it’s not…a wedding.” He blushed. “Now if you excuse me, I have to have a few words with my crew.”_

_“Thank you for having us,” back in your life, “brother.”_

_“Thank you for coming…sister.”_

 

“My, my. I’m popular tonight,” she hummed to herself. A minute later, her door was knocked.

“Come in.”

“We are sorry to intrude your private time, sister,” said Ichiji while the other bowed their heads in respect.

“Don’t be sorry. The night’s still young. What can I do for you, brothers?”

“We’ve learned that Sanji’s marriage was simply a miscommunication; there will be no wedding to attend. What are we supposed to be doing?” Niji asked, always the methodical person. The brothers still wanted her to order them around, like how their father used to do, using his own sons like some pawns. She wouldn’t repeat his mistake.

“What do you think of today?” Reiju gently prodded, using the question to get them to talk about their feelings. She had been trying to help them to get acquainted with their human sides that weren’t just disdain and arrogance.

“The hospitality was terrible,” Yonji immediately voiced his complaint. He was the most expressive among the triplets while his two older brothers were much more reserved and hesitant. “But the food was delicious,” he concluded reluctantly.

“The meeting went unexpected,” Ichiji still tried to analyze the situation. He paused when realizing that he was going to process data again. “I liked the food too.”

Niji nodded in agreement.

“It surely was delicious,” Reiju smiled encouragingly.

“What is your opinion, dear sister? Have we traveled for naught as Sanji isn’t going to marry the swordsman?”

“I do not know. But I think there is plenty of time before the day. Everything can happen and whatever it’s to happen, our role remains the same,” Reiju looked at them meaningfully and they understood.

Wedding or not. The whole world had known that the Strawhat was going to assemble on that day, including the World Government and the Marine. Morgans' headlines did frame the assembly in a way that could be viewed as a mockery to their authority. The outlaws that just publicly invited the other scoundrels to their wedding in a newspaper, with no fear nor respect for the law. The Marine was going to move soon, likely planning to make an example out of the couple. It was going to be a war, perhaps the largest one the pirates had ever had in these five peaceful years.

That was why many Strawhat alliance fleets were heading to the All Blue right now.

“Fun time,” the brothers grinned at each other. Reiju just shook her head at her warhead brothers. Sometimes, she had to compromise and accept the fact that old dogs couldn’t be taught a new trick. They were improving though.

While her brothers discussing among themselves about the warfare. Reiju’s mind went back to the ‘couple’.

Still, she was surprised when it was revealed that they weren’t going to marry. Even more surprised when Sanji vehemently denied that there weren’t even lovers. The swordsman – when her brother appeared – he had changed into a totally different man, like from a bloodhound to a house dog. The way they acted around each other. It was hard to mistake the body language when they were so blatant. The way he looked at Sanji and immediately took a step back to stand beside him, _they were equal so he’d let him handle the situation; he trusted him._ He sheathed his swords, _he wouldn’t_ _intervene; he was being respectful_. His hand was still on the swords,  _he wouldn’t hesitate to unsheathe; protectiveness._

Reiju wondered if Sanji realized how much power had over one man. _So, this is love, hmm._

“Oh, another thing, Reiju-oneesan, does that man know it’s our crow nest that he has been sitting the whole time?”

She might have been spacing out because Niji’s question startled her a little. The brothers were looking at her curiously.

“Oh. Him,” she chuckled, “I think he will come down eventually. There is plenty of time for him to return to his place before we’re departing tomorrow for the island where we’ll be staying until the wedding day.”

“If he doesn’t, I’m kicking him out. This ship needs no other green guy but me,” Yonji puffed out his cheeks.

 

  

46.

Zoro thought this might be the time to climb up the crow nest and start on a meditation.

He’d known he was a goal-oriented person. Like a racing horse, he only had eyes on the winning line and nothing else mattered when he was racing. Because of this very nature of his, he got called out the insensitive brute a lot, mostly by the witch and the cook.

The truth was Zoro processed things at his own pace.

If it was in his specialized field, his home turf, he knew right away what to do with the information; he could find a way to utilize even the smallest detail to secure the victory. Of course, there was the better man for the strategist job and Zoro let the cook played the role while he’d made himself content with cutting the enemies. But he knew his game. In the battlefield, he was quick. He was observant. His instinct was always reliable.

But this. The things that involved emotions; feelings were swiftly flickering, annoying things. They were evasive and fragile. They… overwhelmed him. And it always had something to do with words which he was never good at.

Zoro knew, in his abrupt departure to find the nearest crow nest, he’d sent the wrong message to the cook. But if he was to do it right, he needed time for self-reflection. Knowing his limitation, he couldn’t have given anything useful in that situation. If he had rushed, it would have ruined things that they had built together in the past five years -- that had become his most valuable possession. He was a full-grown man now and he wouldn’t repeat the same mistake of his younger self by running mouth carelessly.

 

He sat cross-legged on the iron floor and close his eye, letting his mind rewind the day event. Here, he was watching them in the seat of an observer, collected and unbiased.

He concentrated on reviewing the facts he had learned today first because they were the easiest part to unravel in this mess of emotional entanglement.

So, here was the rumor on a global scale saying they were going to wed on the day that supposed to be the restaurant’s anniversary. Zoro wasn’t interested in how or who that started the rumor. It already happened. He opted to focus on the more important questions: what would be happening next.

Unexpectedly, the question was quite easy to answer. After cooling down, the cook would do some damage control. He would beat some people, call some people, and threaten a certain press. But that was it. The cook could handle it by himself, without Zoro’s help. All he might have to do was to endure some awkward moments between them for a length of time but eventually, it would die down and things would return to normal like it used to be.

_But should it?_

The voice buzzed in his thought, with its disappointing tone. It startled Zoro, almost forcing him out of the trance. Zoro had to spend a few moments to get himself back into the state of composure. Then, he thought about it.

He found out that not a single part of his body was against the idea of marrying the cook. In fact, it sounded… right.

If he had to marry someone, it should be someone as strong as the cook.

_Or the cook._

….

In a different circumstance, when his mind started wandering into the territory of unexplored imagination, Zoro would backtrack, quickly going back to the safe zone where everything was clear. Today, Zoro allowed his mind to get into the deepest state of trance. It was the mind sanctuary that he reserved only for the sessions with his swords, where he bared his soul to face the truth, allowing his innate wisdom to guide him to the path normally invisible to the naked eye so he could become stronger. He rarely went there; it consumed a lot of energy, often leaving him breathless and bone-tired afterward.

But he’d been pushing back this investigation for five years. The early days of them living together, the cook used to demand his explanation of why he stayed. At some point, the cook stopped asking, perhaps because Zoro always evaded the question.

Because he didn’t know the answer.

His body just wanted to be there; he simply followed its demand because there was no reason to resist, after all, he had no better place to be. It was instinctual. As he explained himself before, in his life, he was conscious just about two things: his crew and his dream. Others were just flickering and unimportant details of life that could be dealt with his gut feeling, no brain needed to be involved.

 

The fog that had been clouded his mind finally dissipated. Then, he saw the truth.

 _Why?_ He asked the mind, still couldn't believe it.

It answered honestly:

_He is strong. His strength captivates you. What is the kind of creature that fights like he dances – you have been wondering. He is deadly as he is elegant. He exhilarates you like no one ever does._

_His stupidity frustrates you._

_His intelligence impresses you._

_His kindness charms you._

_His pain breaks you._

_There is nothing on and of him that you could dislike._

_There is no place you rather be, than with 'your' cook._

_'Yours'._

Zoro opened his eye.

“So, this is it?”

It was so simple he wanted to laugh.

 

Roronoa Zoro was a goal-oriented person.

And he found the goal.

 

 

47.

“You have the gut to lie to me! You gave an interview to that stupid, incompetent bird who fucking couldn’t get my name right! I’m not a fucking Vinsmoke!”

Zeff had to give it to the Eggplant’s crew. Despite their cowardice, they were man enough to face the consequences of their action. He thought that maybe a few would leave the crew to save their asses but it seemed they were all in the room, waiting for the wrath of their boss to end them.

Yeah, but it didn’t mean they weren’t pathetic. The big-ass men clustering together on the one side of the room, whining and begging for their (smaller) captain's forgiveness while the Eggplant making the hissy rant. It was too painful to watch. Zeff finally took pity on them.

“Eggplant, you have them crapping their pants already. They have to work tomorrow, ‘member? Just cut the crap so everyone can go to bed.”

“Shut up, you geezer. You can piss off but I need to find the fucking mole who sold that piece of fake shit to the fucking bird!”

“Ya talking to him, brat.”

“……”

“……”

One of the staff seized this time to finish his will, while the rest had decided to become religious.

“YOU FUCKING USELESS OLD MAN!?! HOW COULD YOU? YOU’VE RUINED EVERYTHING!!”

“DON’T YOU DARE RAISE YOUR VOICE AT ME, BOY! AND YOU’VE TRIED MY PATIENCE!!”

 

Zoro, obviously, took it the perfect time to stumble into the room.

 

 

48.

He had been wandering on a foreign corridor that he was pretty sure wasn’t Baratie’s for two hours before being shown the way out by that pink-haired woman. Her all-knowing smile did make his sense go haywire and he was more than relieved to be back on his ship and find the cook.

Which took about another hour, because people seemed to disappear and there was no single soul to give him the direction to the cook’s whereabouts.

 

The people in the room had mixed feelings about the swordsman’s sudden appearance or the reason why he was here. He was the wild card. But the head chef never ignored him, so it meant their death sentence was being pushed back a little.

The staff was grateful for Roronoa Zoro’s existence.

 

“Where the fuck have you been?!” As predicted, the cook immediately crossed the floor to the swordsman, baring teeth at him.

 Here, Sanji was trying to concentrate on his rage. He had the subordinates to discipline and the moss’s stupid face made him remember the embarrassment the news had caused. If he flushed, it was going to be visible on his pale skin and he was not gonna let his crew see their boss fucking blushed. His unannounced presence was distracting.

He had to get rid of Zoro.

“You know what, I don’t care. I’m busy right now. If you’re hungry, you will get to feed when I finish with these useless bastards.”

“I’m not hungry,” said the shrub, looking back at Sanji disappointedly like he expected Sanji to read his stoic face and know of his intention.

Sanji turned his back at Zoro, pointedly ignoring him.

“Oi, cook.”

“What?! Do you want me to filet you along with this useless lot? Piss off!”

“Can’t do. I’m here to tell you something important,” Sanji wrinkled his nose in annoyance before turning back to the persistent swordsman, tapping his foot impatiently.

“Say it and piss off.”

“Let’s marry, you and me.”

 

That was how you stop the world from spinning. And kill a cook.

 

 

49.

The only person in the room who had positive feedback for the swordsman’s proposal was Zeff who let out a loud bark of laughter. Patty and Carne who have been the silent spectators to this point, had their jaws drop to the floor. Few of the weak-minded staff fainted because of the unbearable tension.

But Sanji couldn’t care any less about the others’ reactions; he was dying.

“What the fuck did you just say!?”

“I said…”

“I know that!!” The cook forcibly yanked on Zoro’s collar and hissed, “are you fucking with me too? I swear Zoro, I will end you…”

“I’m serious,” replied Zoro and he meant it.

Sanji’s heart started ramming his ribcage like it desperately wanted to be out and in Zoro’s hand. 

“Why you… whatever! I refuse!”

Marimo had the gut to look flabbergasted like he didn’t expect a no from Sanji.

“Why!”

“Why, indeed. Tell me what did you hit your skull with to come up with that absurd idea?”

“It’s obvious.”

“Enlighten me.”

The other witnesses in the room instantly held their breath. Some even felt emotionally invested, silently mouthing, “says: I love you,” to the swordsman who, of course, didn’t see nor hear it. The two had been tuning out everyone’s voices. They were seeing and hearing no one but the person in front of them. Sanji was a nervous wreck but he kept the challenging look on.

 _This is the moment of truth,_ thought everyone in the room. With the right word, the table could be turned and lives would be saved, hope was slowly blooming in their chests.

Zoro looked at the cook and –

He huffed.

“Why are you so against the idea of marrying me? Look, you hate the name Vinsmoke, right? Marry me and you can take mine. Roronoa Sanji. It even makes you sound like a cool person instead of a shit cook.”

People slapped hands on their faces and groaned.

“Fucking eloquent, ain’t he?” Patty patted Zeff’s shoulder, offering mental support for his boss during a hard time. Zeff was so done with living among the purebred morons. They didn’t need to see what’d happen next as the swordsman was flying to the wall and broke it to million pieces.

 

Sanji just stared at the unbelievable him. He opened and closed his mouth several times but couldn’t find his voice. He let his legs do the talking. Seeing Zoro emerged from the ruined wall looking like a fool he was must help Sanji regain his voice.

“Go to hell, your moss-for-brain!” Screamed the indignant cook before, storming out of the kitchen.

 

“You stop!!” On his way to his chamber, Sanji growled at the little voice in his head. First was his heart, now it was his own mind which betrayed him. The animal brain hadn’t stopped purring with contentment since Marimo uttered _Roronoa Sanji_.

Fuck Marimo. Fuck him. Fuck. Fuck.

He was so fucked.

Sanji didn't get a sleep tonight.

 

 

50. 

There were so many things to do the next morning. On top of running the restaurant and writing a ton of letters to comfort the beautiful ladies who must have been heart-broken by the news, and to threaten the fucking press, Sanji also had to try hiding from the moss.

Actually, it wasn’t hiding because hiding implied fear; Sanji Blackleg never feared. He was trying to avoid him and his new-found madness because it was… annoying, and he wouldn’t be able to get shit done if he lowered himself to listen to the marimo-headed idiot.

Sanji prayed to gods that Zoro would get lost and never be found again, ever. It almost happened, with Zoro’s navigational skill, or the lack of it. However, his direction-challenged issue seemed to take a break today because no one wanted Sanji to catch a break. As he was tip-toeing into the kitchen, Moss was there, staring him down across the hallway, ready to corner Sanji. Sanji had no choice but to drag him to a quieter corridor because if they were to have a conversation, he preferred it not to be where there were the spectators made of his nosy father and subordinates. God knows, he needed no more embarrassment in his life.

“Marry me, cook?” The unbelievable man opened his trap again. This time though, he phrased it a little better. The plant might have learned from the mistake last night that this kind of things should be asked, not ordered. The tone sounded less like a demand now, but it was still unrefined as hell.

 “No,” Sanji replied firmly.

“Why?”

“You know why. And before you open that big mouth of you to bring up that damn name thing again,” Sanji raised his finger in warning. Zoro, for once, closed his mouth obediently; a good sign that this sea dog could be taught some sense into him.

“My name is Blackleg Sanji. I’m good with it, thank you.”

“That is your alias,” Zoro pointed out matter-of-factly.

“Still, no,” Sanji growled.

 

Zoro was nothing but persistent. People who had met the swordsman would say the man was made of 99% of pure stubbornness and 1% of green.

Zoro burst into Sanji’s office in the afternoon, looking frustrated and confused. He overlooked the couch where he usually sat and went straight to sit on the desk chair Sanji reserved for the guest.

“Why can’t we marry?” Asked Marimo. _Here we go again,_ groaned Sanji internally while keeping the indifferent façade.

“Why we have to marry?”

“I asked first.”

“…” The Glare.

“…” The Stare.

“Fine! We will do this for the first and last time so you can stop bothering me. We can’t simply get married because we aren’t even there, you brute!”

Zoro’s eye widened in surprise like he didn’t expect this kind of answers which kind of confirmed Sanji that he was 1% green and 99% a moron.

 “What the fuck were you talking about, cook?”

“It was in the relationship 101 class that you had skipped last semester, remember?” Sanji jested. When Zoro looked like he was going to lunge at him, he sighed and began to explain, “Before people decide to get married, they have to pass several stages of commitment, okay? First, you start with dating, spending some quality of time with the other. If you like them enough, you become lovers. If both of you really commit to the relationship, you become fiancés. After that, you can start thinking about marriage!”

Sanji almost shouted the last part out. No one should be forced to go through this. This was like giving a pep talk to a son which was basically the epitome of uncomfortableness. Zoro, on the other hand, had the face of someone who had just discovered a new world and was mesmerized by its conception. The same man who looked so disinterested with everything even when Luffy discovered One Piece.

“What count as dating?”

“Exercise your brain cells, Marimo. Lunch date, meaningful gifts, dinner under the candlelight. Romantic stuff. Do I have to do the test for you?”

Marimo didn’t rise to Sanji’s goad, he was seriously considering his suggestion.

“We have lunch together all the time,” said Zoro, trying to find his way around Sanji's words. Not a chance.

“That doesn’t count,” Sanji quickly countered, “You have to be conscious about it.”

Here, Zoro was the man whose solution to any problem was to cut it down with his swords. When he was about to do it, he always had a certain expression. It also could mean that he couldn’t be talked out of doing it. Zoro was having that expression right now.

Sanji was secretly sweating.

 

 

51.

Zoro had disappeared the whole evening. During the time, Sanji had been in his office, writing letters after letters. It was way past dinner time but he was still furiously writing the last letter to the World Economy Press, demanding them to publicly apologize him or he was going to sail to the Grand Line and make a fucking squab pie out of their president. In his attempt to get the letters ready to be sent tomorrow, he had forgotten to eat and had run out the last pack of cigarettes since maybe 2 PM?  He could feel his mind process things slower than usual and his eyes were tired from staring at papers all day.

Again that Zoro, the master of appropriate timing, burst into his office, with a tray of food picked from the staff's buffet —and a paraffin lamp. But Sanji didn't have energy left in him to make even a clever quip about it. He barely comprehended why would he bring the lamp - Has the kitchen have a blackout? 

Zoro slammed down the paraffin lamp on Sanji’s desk, along with the food tray. Sanji blinked at it, then he caught the sight of his favorite cigarette brand placed nicely beside plates of food. He immediately lit it and took a deep happy smoke.

All of the exhaustion seemed to be gone as soon as he had a cig. Sanji let out a series of heart-shaped smokes as his mood had been lightened. He sighed happily.

“Thank, moss. I need this,” Sanji’s level of happiness correlated to his willingness to tolerate the moss.

Zoro shrugged but said nothing. Sanji started digging in the food, wisely deciding to ignore the lamp on the desk. He just realized that he was starving. Zoro had patiently waited for Sanji to peacefully finish his meal. When he lit another cigarette, Marimo bombarded him with his question. Again. The question that if having been asked earlier, Sanji's appetite would have gone.

“So, are we boyfriends now?”

It wasn’t the proudest moment of Sanji’s life as he choked on the smoke. The last time he did was about fifteen years ago when he started a one man’s career of destroying his lungs.

“It has to be years!” Sanji coughed out, trying to continue smoking.

“You weren’t specific about 'the quality of time',” Zoro said proudly. Marimo must think he was a fucking wordsmith for finding a way to bend Sanji’s words to his own gain.

The blond chef inhaled the last smoke before putting out the cig on the nearby ashtray.

“Why you were fixed on marriage this sudden? Did the old man brainwash you or something?” The cook asked in his quiet, tired voice. The things that had happened within the past 24 hours had drained him beyond imagination. He had his faith in Zoro after learning the unpleasant truth, that the moss would give him some sense of sanity because everyone had suddenly become so infuriating. Then Marimo appeared, just, to weird him out with his crazy proposal. Sanji never wanted to jump off the ship to get rid of someone before. He had the thought last night. Right now, it was fucking tempting.

He didn’t think he could keep up the façade to entertain Zoro any more. This nonsense had to stop, or Sanji might actually kill himself.

“He played his part. But I’ve figured the rest out, myself. I mean it. Marry me, Sanji,” Zoro said while looking at him in the eyes. Sanji hated this. Hated to be reminded of how charismatic Zoro could be. Just the gaze and the words spoken in his baritone voice – it was too easy to succumb to his demands, how ridiculously unfair this was?

“Why?” He forced out the question that the man, in front of him, had been avoiding to answer.

“You cannot live without me – let me finish this, Sanji,” Zoro said, knowing that Sanji would interrupt – how could he not, look at that boisterous claim he began the confession with - but he also knew the power he had over Sanji just by calling his name – despicable swordsman. Sanji glared at him but otherwise still listening. “I know you can’t live without me because I know I cannot. If our feeling is mutual- then why not?" When he had become the greatest swordsman, it was the end of his life-long dream. He should have been in troubles because he had no interest in fame and the idea of having the ease of life never entertained him. A man like him, without a meaningful direction, should have gone restless. But he didn't and so the cook. Sanji and he were similar in mind, so he supposed they had unknowingly grounded each other. If they were already physically needing the other just to live, Zoro thought maybe he could hope -- " Or am I wrong about your feeling?"

“We aren’t talking about MY feeling,” Sanji gritted his teeth. “If living together is what you want, we are already living together. I don’t see the reason to change our living arrangement.”

Zoro let out a frustrated growl, “You know that isn’t what – why you always make the thing difficult than it should?”

“Well, I cannot assume things, Marimo. Marriage requires lots of communication. I’m not sure you are the man for this job.”

"..."

“The truth, **Zoro**. This or nothing.”

The swordsman looked almost pleading. “…You know I’m not good with words,” 

“I’m listening.”

“I didn’t know there are other options for me to be beside you,” Zoro began, a bit quieter than he normally spoke, “When we compete with each other, I feel complete. At peace. I should have felt restless after attaining my dream but I didn’t, because you have kept me grounded. Until yesterday, I had been content with what we have. But not anymore. When I know that we can – become something more –“

He struggled to find a word and Sanji waited.

“You know me, I aim for the best and you are my goal - have been for many years. I was just too stupid to realize,” He chuckled to himself, the old man was right – he was really stupid. “If there is a chance for us, may I --” _Have you?_

“You may,” Sanji whispered back. Not the most charming confession, clearly, not even romantic. Definitely not the kind of speech Sanji had dreamed of giving or being given, but it was genuine and it was so Zoro. So, it was enough.

Zoro never looked this hopeful before. Sanji blushed but gave him back the small smile. 

“So, are you going to marry me on the anniversary date, right?” 

Sanji's smile died down. They had just made the decision, so important that if it went wrong, could totally destroy even their nakamaship. And here was the Marimo making the fucking insensitive question. Again.

“Are you a moron!? We aren’t going to marry on that day!”

“You’ve just accepted my proposal!”

“I’ve accepted your plea to try on the relationship, not the marriage proposal!”

“Why cannot we marry on the anniversary? You are throwing a party anyway?!” Sanji sputtered.

“The preparations of the two events undergo totally fucking different processes, you caveman! And I’m not emotionally prepared!”

Zoro snorted, intentionally picking his ear because he knew it would annoy Sanji.

“Of course, your brain always processes things slower than mine.”

“Other people take years to get married!”

“We aren’t other people.”

“Why are you so fixated on rushing to get married?” Sanji asked, exasperated. 

Zoro stared at him, “You call this rushing? I’ve been wasting time for too long. If we could wed tomorrow, I would. I want to give my all to you and you to give your all to me. I want people to know that we belong together now.” _And hands off, he's mine_ , Zoro’s animal brain hissed possessively at the imaginary suitors of past, present, and future that could be lurking in the dark, trying to steal his cook.

Sanji blushed furiously at that blatant, unabashed confession. He tried to distract the moss from noticing by coughing.

“Seven weeks.”

“?”

“You have seven weeks to make me say yes.”

Zoro blinked at Sanji's conditional proposition, but when his brain finished registering the message, he smirked. Sanji returned back with his wide grin. It didn’t need speech to understand what the other was up to. It was just the two of them just getting themselves a new challenge to compete with the other.

“So, just to clear things up, are we boyfriends now?”

“No, still dating. You are working on getting me to agree to go out with you on the second date.”

_Challenge accepted, shitty cook._

_Don’t make it boring, third-rate swordsman._

 

 

52. 

The next morning, more three familiar ships appeared on the horizon of All Blue. Again that the Baratie had to welcome the unexpected associates of the head chef. This time, everyone at the restaurant was prepared and Sanji had a sufficient rest last night which made him in a quite good mood. He ordered a private room to be arranged, separated and furthest away from other restaurant goers, for the safety of all the beings on the ship. So far, everything was going good. The guests were eating, and the moss was still lost in the dreamland.

 

Sometimes, Sanji did wonder, though. He wondered if the young generations, those who had grown up during the peaceful era that Luffy'd created, like some of his young staff or the customers, would have any idea how peculiar the situation was, because it wasn't your every day that you would see the three captains of the worst generation casually walking in a restaurant and have the meal together.

 _Perhaps not_ , Sanji snorted, _Zoro IS the Swordsman_ _but some brats still think he is a fucking janitor here. Moss dressing like a homeless doesn’t really help his case._

But these three pirate captains weren't Marimo. Trafalgar D. Law, X Drake, and Basil Hawkins. These people weren't the kind of men to associate themselves with commoners. Also, they were fucking different from each other which made Sanji think that he might make the risky choice by seating them in the same room and serving them food with his best dishes...

“Head Chef, sir. The guests from the special table want to give their compliments to the chef,” the waiting staff came to inform Sanji at kitchen station, looking slightly pale. He was young, around 17 maybe, and must feel pressured for being assigned a job to tend the three captains. He did a decent job in upholding his professionalism, though. Some young lads here rarely got the chance to cater for guests of this high esteem. The real deals, not the worthless rich. People who featured in legends and tales, and whose names would go in history. The only living legend around here was Marimo, but Zoro had been showing out his idiocy far too much to command Sanji's crew's respect at this point.

Sanji removed his apron. “You’ve done a pretty job, don’t worry,” he gave encouraging pats on the cheek of the young waiter before walking out to greet the guests.

 

The first thing Sanji did when he reached their table was to sit down on the available chair and lit his cig. This was going to be a long conversation than a platitude of emptied courtesy he usually got and Sanji rather sat comfortably through it.

“Normally, people have to reserve a seat to dine in my restaurant, you realize?” He told them casually. 

“I've just arrived, you don’t have to hurry to give me the cold shoulder. You’re mean, Blackleg-ya," Law countered easily, with his trademark teasing smirk, "Glad to know that you aren’t losing your fire, playing house with the swordsman-ya."

“How's about you? I haven’t heard any news from you since the Great War. You look quite domestic for an active pirate, perhaps a retirement?” Sanji quipped back. Law, actually, looked the same, but healthier. Clearly, he wasn't the same edgy warlord who shouldered the pain on his back alone.

“Retirement suits him well. He has been pretty occupied with his hobby.” Hawkin interrupted and Drake snickered. Sanji's interest was piqued. 

"You have my full attention."

Law glared at them.

“Oh right, Blackleg. He is very famous for his renowned career in North Blue. You might not know, seeing you haven't visited your hometown for once during the years.”

“Drop it. Or I kill you,” Law threatened, his hand dangerously hovering over his long katana.

“No one is killing anyone in my restaurant,” Sanji quickly interrupted the quarrel, nipping it in the bud before it could erupt into a full fight. He turned his attention to the two guests whom he hadn’t yet decided what to feel about them appearing unannounced at his doorstep. “Sooo, why are you two here? No offends, but I recall, we didn’t exactly have the good records with each other.”

Drake mannerly put down the beer he was drinking and said, “I’m here to congratulate you on the marital union, Blackleg. We might haven’t been on good terms – I was so obsessed with hunting you down back then, and you always slipped right through me when I almost got you in my grip; you had frustrated me so – but you have my respect,” he finished and resumed his drinking. How could he keep the straight face while saying something like that was. How was Sanji supposed to reply to that admission? Hearing someone confessed about their obsession to annihilate you – it was, fucking uncomfortable.

“Thanks, I guess? But no, I’m not marrying. The news is fake,” Sanji forced out a strained smile while correcting the captains about their misunderstanding.

Hawkins had the thoughtful look on him. He was now staring at Sanji like he was searching into his soul which reminded Sanji how creepy this guy was. The Magician got his cards out before spreading them on the table. He wasn’t going to read the cards; he just played big. Despite the quiet personality, the man had a thing for grandeur and ostentation. Just look at how he dressed. _Showy._

“I read my cards before coming here. They told me you are getting married.” The pale man stopped to take a sip of the wine, pausing for his revelation to sink into the others’ brains, “They also told me my presence is required. So, I’m here to witness the wedding.”

“Your fortune-telling is superstitious and full of bullshit,” Sanji told him sincerely.

“I agree with him,” said Drake, surprisingly taking Sanji’s side. Hawkins gave Drake the stare. It was... intense. There was the heat between the two supernovas that Sanji could practically sense it.

 _Oh,_ gasped Sanji,

_These idiots haven’t got a clue!_

Sanji was suddenly feeling giddy with thrill because he loved watching romantic shits and people making a fool of themselves.

“My cards are never wrong,” Hawkins said; his voice was still void of human emotions.

“Why are you needed for Blackleg-ya’s wedding?” Law asked out of the pure curiosity.

Hawkins seemed to not expect the question “I’ve never asked them why before,” he admitted with a frown.

“Then, ask it,” Sanji urged, starting to get curious as well.

Hawkins did some cool card shufflings before spreading them out again on the table. He picked a few out, looked at them and went deadly quiet. The other three had been waiting expectantly for his prediction but when he didn’t speak out, they prodded impatiently, “Well?”

Hawkins regarded them like judging their worthiness to hear his foretelling but at last, decided to explain, 

“They say that I will find my lover at the wedding."

it was brief and curt and he went back to sipping his wine like it was no big deal. The level of calmness he had, even he had just discovered the truth of his love life (well, not the truth, it was a fucking fortune-telling but Hawkins believed in his craft, he must be believing it, right?), made Sanji feel a bit ashamed of himself about his panic attack in the previous days.

“The poor man; my condolences to his unfortunate soul,” Drake barked out a laugh, mockingly giving a toast to Hawkins’s unknown future lover.

“I didn’t say he was a man. How did you know?” Hawkins asked breezily.

Drake choked on his drink.

“Ugh. Just finish your food and go back to North Blue, okay? You guys are scaring off my staff.”

“I think it’s _‘your guy’_ who is scaring off your staff, Sanji-ya,” Law gave him a mischievous grin, wide and Cheshire-cat like.

 “Crap!” Cursed Sanji, his Haki finally sensing the intimating aura coming to their direction. He looked at the time and cursed again. It was half past one. He had been spending one hour and a half with the North-Blue reunion, that was unexpected. But, it was kind of fun and he'd been pretty invested in the two supernovas’ love life and no one had yet told him what Tra-guy’s hobby was about.

Sanji let out a low growl.

“Fucking Marimo. Every damn time, when shit's just got interesting!” The cook slammed his hand on the table in frustration, abruptly standing up and running to the main hall where the swordsman was currently causing the havoc.

 

 53.

“I don’t want them here,” pouted Zoro after being ushered back into the kitchen by an irritated Sanji. Actually, the right word would be dragging because Zoro didn’t cooperate at all and Sanji almost had to carry him, like a dead weight, to the kitchen. Why did Moss love to humiliate him in the public?

“It’s been years why are you still holding grudges against them? Law is with them; they are fine!”

 _That’s the problem!_   Screamed Zoro, in his head, in desperation.

Zoro’s feeling about the former warlord started out pretty neutral. He was quiet; he was strong. He kept it to himself which made him the least annoying supernovas. Luffy trusted him. Their alliance made him see the other side of the brooding man which he’d grown to respect. All in all, Law was okay in Zoro’s book.

Zoro’s respect for Law ended in Wano.

 

_Zoro’s respect for Law ended in Wano when the man started to look too eager to get his hand on the cook in his raid-suit form. Zoro wasn’t there when Franky and Usopp planned to modify the raid suit for the cook. He was told that Law kindly volunteered to help the cook test out his suit and no one ever had the brain to think that it was weird. Why the fuck a surgeon was needed in a mechanic workshop?!_

_Zoro was back in time to see the team emerging out from the workshop, with the cook **fucking butt-naked** , having only **Law’s black yukata** to protect his modesty. The cook looked red like a beetroot, threatening the other mechanics not to tell their comrades of what happened inside the workshop. Usopp was terrified to the point that Zoro’s sword couldn’t pry his mouth open._

_Law looked smug._

_And just to add fuel to Zoro’s enraging flame, Kinemon, the perverted samurai was quickly by the cook’s side, fuzzing over his missing cloth._

_Fucking dirty-minded perverts. Zoro wished their alliance was terminated, so he could gut them._

 

“Look, they will be gone before you finish your lunch, you idiot. I’m sending them to the Marimo Island by tonight,” Sanji negotiated while giving Zoro plate of his favorite rice balls to pacify him. Zoro glowered at the peace offering like an ungrateful man he was.

“You aren’t sending them to my island.”

“It isn’t your island, technically.”

“It has my name on it," grumbled Zoro.

“Since when your name becomes Marimo,” Sanji teased. Zoro, the child, handled the harmless joke like one, by refusing to eat.

 “Okay, okay. My bad. Just eat, ‘kay?”

“….”

"Look, you aren't exactly in the position to be demanding. You trashed my dining hall!" Sanji wanted and had the right to be mad but Zoro was seriously upset for no reason about the North-blue captains being here and it confused him to the point that he forgot to be mad. Also, a petulant moss was kind of adorable in his own way, making him want to go easy on him. Just once.

“If you are being a good boy, I'll give you more of your favorites?" Sanji bribed. 

"I want breadsticks." 

"Anything else?" Well, that was easy to make. He was bracing himself for the requests like a collection of his brandy so something. Moss was being humble today. 

“And a date," finished Zoro in the voice that left no room for negotiation.

Sanji realized _he'd been played._

“Fine! Just eat your food!”

 

 

54. 

"Room!" Law used his power to open the portal and collect the small Den Den Mushi he had hidden in the kitchen before the couple realized the kitchen was bugged. 

“Blackleg sounds like a husband with wife-y energy,” Hawkins commented after ear-dropping the cook and the swordsman's talk.

“I think they are already married," Drake gave out his opinion.

“My cards disagree; they aren’t married yet.”

“Your cards are shit.”

“I will end your pathetic life.”

“You can try.”

“If you excuse me, I’m going back to my ship, having more important things to do than watching a pig fight. See ya.”

“Oh, when will the new Stealth-black cartoon is coming out, Law-sensei?” Hawkins attacked.

“It’s called a graphic novel!” Law yelled, offended. 

“Your take on Stealth Black as the anti-hero is daring. I like the transformation scene but your writing is a bit lazy. Give him a strong contender, like a big fearsome dinosaur,” criticized Drake, giving the opinion when it wasn't wanted.

“I will fucking kill you bastards here, and Blackleg-ya will never the wiser!”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone enjoys this chapter. below I'm going to be fangirling about the recent manga chapter (944). Spoilers for those who haven't read it yet.
> 
>  
> 
> Oh, dear. Have you seen Zoro?! He was so charismatic! This's so going down in Zoro's best moments as the Strawhat's first mate. His charisma and leadership shined brightly in this chapter and it was so awesome. The way he just told his crew what to do --Franky to take care of the goons; Sanji to take care of the kid - and they did! I screamed that they followed his order; it was the coolest moment. And I squealed that Sanji came back to his side just to yell at him because he was being dumb for going after Orochi. If there's going to be one who can talk to Zoro when he was so mad, so serious, it'd be Sanji. Thus, I declare, Sanji is a wifu-husband of Roronoa Zoro.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, thank you for your support and lovely comments. I read all of them and am truly grateful.  
> This was supposed to be a final chapter but it kinda escalated. Again. I tried to fit everything in but it would be too crammed. Please bear with me a little longer. I promise I'll finish it!

 

55.

What did dating the cook feel like?

_Need you ask? Frustration, of course._

 

56.

Zoro had done everything to the best of his ability, indulging every whimsical demand of the cook to the point he seriously worried that soon he would vomit rose petals while shitting the rest of the goddamn flower out of his ass.

In other words, romance never ever was Zoro's strong suit but he'd endured its trial like a real man.

Or a true idiot.

_Sigh._

Let's have a quick recap of what he had done in these four tiring weeks.

 

Lunch date? Checked. Gift-giving? Nailed it.

The latter was easy. In fact, it was the easiest thing to do in his opinion; Zoro always preferred a 'less-talk-more-action' kind of a task. The instruction was simple: get a gift, give it to the cook, done. Even a child could do it.

Nothing could go wrong with a fish. It was edible, a perfect and useful gift for a sea cook. For 14 days, Zoro had given fishes to the cook and the cook never once said a word that he was displeased with what Zoro got him. Those who were not satisfied, however, was the cook's crews as they kept giving him a disappointing look every time he entered the kitchen in the morning to drop off his gift. Wasn't dating supposed to be an affair between two people? He felt like he was dealing not only with his date's feeling but his date's extended family's expectation or something like that.

Nosy people should mind their own business.

 

The Baratie's staff begged to differ: this was their very business. 

Despite the relief from hearing that the couple _finally_ acknowledged their pent-up sexual tension for each other, the crews still thought they were so full of shit. They had been forced (as in, unable to leave the cooking stations,) to witness the resident swordsman coming to the kitchen every day to drop his gift to their owner-chef – like some kind of a stray cat who brought its kills to his master. Surely, they shouldn't stick their noses into their boss’s affair but this fucking weird courting dance had been going since  _forever_. Like, what the hell - they thought they were still _dating_? It was like the same episode from a very old soap opera that was rerun again and again, to milk money from old maids but the program never fucking showed the whole series and its ending, simply unbearable. God knows how long would it take for them to stop playing a pair of blushing teenagers and fucking kiss.

Not to mention the swordsman’s tactless and poor choice in gifts which bothered them greatly. Fish. Every. Single. Day.

Could not that man think of something different to give to Boss that wasn’t _bleeding_?

They were vulgar and crude sailors but even they knew a thing or two about romance. Let they tell you, a bloody carcass of a dead sea king was not romantic. 

“When will Curly come back to the kitchen?” Zoro asked when he didn't see the cook, oblivious to the judgmental glare as he dropped a cow-size chuck of seaking’s meat on the kitchen because the largest fridge still wasn’t large enough to fit in the meat. The raw and heavy meat hit the floor with a loud splashy thud, blood spilling everywhere, all over the floor, the cooking stations, and the cooking staff’s faces.

The only senior chef on morning duty, Patty wiped the blood that was dripping on his face with a nearby rug before taking off his apron, making up his mind to lend a helping hand to the swordsman so this courting charade could pick up speed.

“This is going to take a while,” he said to his sous chefs who saluted him for making a personal sacrifice for the team.

 

Zoro was planning to stay in the kitchen until the cook came back from the office to recognize today's gift but the baldhead chef tapped his shoulder, motioning Zoro to follow him outside instead. Even he was a bit confused, Zoro complied. Patty was a chef and the Baratie's main bouncer. It was his secondary job that they had some interactions with each other as Zoro helped him boot some customers out of the dinning premise from time to time. But they weren't exactly close. Zoro had no idea what the man wanted from him. He guessed he'd just wait and see; he still had time to kill before going back to the kitchen and demanding food from the cook.

Patty took him to just outside of the kitchen's backdoor where the restaurant put out the rubbish. Around this area where the garbage bins were placed was dubbed unofficially as the smoking area where the chefs came for a quick smoke before hurrying back to their stations. 

Like all cooks of the sea, Patty didn't waste his time on courtesy, especially when it brought no money, getting to the point as soon as they stopped walking.

“Look, have you not given him the same gift for 5 years?” 

“No. I started like two weeks ago,” Zoro responded in kind.

Patty’s eyes twitched. As much as he wanted to knock some sense into this man, he strategically dropped the topic. There was a more important matter that he needed to talk. May gods give him strength. 

“Getting fishes for two whole weeks is too much for anyone. Just get him something else for a change, 'kay?” He told the swordsman frankly. He had seen Zoro long enough to know that if you wanted something from him, telling him straightforwardly would get you that thing faster than implying for him to figure out because he could not.

 “Like what?”

“Pretty things,” Patty suggested offhandedly. “For a start, flowers.”

“Flowers?” Repeated Zoro, looking genuinely quizzical. “How a flower could be of any use to the cook? It’s just a plant, plucked out, waiting to wither away.”

Patty blinked.

He blinked again and thought the swordsman should be grateful that Gods gave him his look. If he had to rely on his non-existing flirting skill alone, no one would fucking go to his bed. 

“Look, that brat like flowers, okay? Just get him one.” The man with Popeye’s arms patted the swordsman’s shoulder, signaling the end of the conversation before shooing Zoro away so he could smoke in peace.

 

Zoro found himself putting his hand on the ship balcony, staring into the sea and processing the piece of information he'd been given. He thought of the baldhead man's advice and his own opinion on plant life. He remembered the witch’s tangerine trees on their boats which provided shades for him to sleep, and citrus fruits to keep scurvy away. Trees were useful, he supposed. The less useful one, on the other hand, was the little flower patch that belonged to Robin but Zoro wasn’t dumb to say that on their archaeologist’s face (Franky did and the male crewmates on board were still traumatized by what happened to him.) Obviously, no one was thrilled for gardening duty; it was the kind of jobs that the male crews tried their best to avoid because  _plants were boring_ (in Luffy’s voice -  but to be fair to plants, the only kind of plants that could interest their captain would have to be a carnivorous one - the more feral, the more he liked it).

But yeah, there was this one man on the ship who was willing to water both the witch’s citrus trees and Robin’s flowers, the same one who loved shopping and bathed as often as the two women. Perhaps, his and the women's brains were on the same wavelength or something.

Anyway, he concluded, it’d not hurt to try it out. The problem was they were in the middle of the sea where flowers were - rare, except the pot plants decorating the dining hall but it wasn't like he could go and pluck out its flower - that would be stupid and suicidal.

Of course, he could go to his island to get the flower but it was now full of people he disliked and Zoro wanted that fragile useless thing to stay fresh enough to present to the cook.

So…

The swordsman stared into the sea, searching for the solution. He let his mind get in a sort of semi-meditative state while listening to the rhythmical sounds of ocean waves crashing over the side of the ship, waiting for any good idea to pop up into his head. And it did.

 

_There must be plenty of flowers down the sea below, right?_

 

Taking out of the coat and boots, the swordsman wasted no time to take a few steps back before diving into the sea. The water in the morning was always colder as the sun had not yet warmed it up but it wasn't much of a little inconvenience to a man with a strong will, and a desire to impress his date.

It didn't take long for Zoro to get a sea flower he wanted and got back to the ship. There were too many on the coral reefs, painting the deepwater world with its vibrant colors. He looked at the one he just plucked out from a rock, colorful and still _moving_ which in Zoro’s book made them more interesting than their terrestrial counterparts.

The swordsman shook the water off his body as graceful as a wet dog, picking his boots and coat before going back to the kitchen to find the cook, all the while batting the flower' slick tentacles away as it tried to cut off the blood circulation to his left hand.

 

You could guess the outcome of his attempt by now and you'd probably be right.

This story ended with the swordsman diving back in the sea to return the anemone ( _“yes, it is an aquatic animal!!”_ ) to its habitation, with a bump on his head acting as a reminder of the moral lesson he'd learned today - that _" **never** in any circumstance that anemones are interchangeable with flowers!"_

 

After watching in horror as the swordsman thrust the moving creature into Sanji's hands - Sanji who had yet registered the origin of the thing abruptly placed on his hand and whose confusion was written clearly on his face, the face that later got latched on by said _gift's tentacles -_  Patty wisely decided to wash his hands of these fools’ affair, joining Zeff and other senior chefs in the ringside. 

People's stupidity was like flu, you had to let it run its course.

 

57.

Since the sea-flower incident, Zoro had become cautious when people tried to give him their pieces of advice which strangely happened a lot. He felt like his affair with the cook became a multi-party business. He had absolutely no idea what could they possibly gain from investing their time in his private life. This time, it was the junior cooks who for a mysterious reason liked hanging out with Zoro.

They used to fear him, some of them once told Zoro. It was understandable. After all, they were different in almost many ways. Zoro could be at least a decade older than all of them; had a formidable reputation, the intimidating look and was a living legend. But as soon as the young cooks discovered that this swordsman was actually a chilling dude and the only person on board who didn’t yell at them, they flocked around Zoro like the lost little ducklings. Zoro thought the apprentices were alright, less annoying than their asshole senior chefs. They treated him with some respect even he didn't care much about seniority; it was a breath of fresh air once in a while when he wasn't shouted at or ushered out of the kitchen by the head chef, or his father or his father’s henchmen.

Basically, these useless children bonded over the resentment of being scolded by the adults.

Knowing that they wouldn’t get sliced into strips just by talking or joking with the greenhead swordsman, the young cooks felt emboldened to give their older mate some ideas to woo their head-chef.  Like this time during the lunch break as they had assembled behind the stack of flour sacks in the kitchen's storage room while Zoro taking an afternoon nap.

“You should try singing, Roronoa-san.”

“I don’t sing," yawned Zoro which earned him a stare from the perplexed cooks because the swordsman had just admitted to never sing.

"Come on, Roronoa-san! When you look at Head Chef, don't you ever feel like singing to him?"

Zoro frowned, slightly confused by the nature of the question. "When I see the cook's stupid face, all I want to do is cutting him," He said carefully.

_Is this man for real?_

If he was the same age as them and did not have a terrifyingly long list of kill count, the young cooks would call him out for bullshit. But because he was the infamous Roronoa Zoro, they believed that this guy was that kind of man who meant what he'd just said. ฺBesides the explicit preference for violence against their boss which they rather not commented, it was still weird he dismissed singing easily. Singing was an inseparable part of life at the sea for all pirates and sailors! I mean, what was a life worth living without a song on the lips?

Not giving up, one by one, they tried to save the swordsman's soul by telling him stories of how love could be won by the power of music. Zoro had listened patiently, zoning out most of the time but still noticing that each story sappier than the last. The brats had the audacity to claim all the tales true when they were clearly made-up; a proof of their naivety. The swordsman gave a noncommittal grunt, suppressing the urge to shake his head at them. Their liking for sappy and exaggerating shits uncannily resembled of their boss's, so Zoro suspected much the cook' shit tastes had rubbed off on them.

Luckily, he didn't have to tell them to shut up as one of the senior cooks had shown up with the perfect timing, causing the youngsters to scatter in all directions like sewer rats being found by a cat, all scrambling back to their stations.

Zoro moved up to the quiet crow nest to take a nap. He had not been interrupted for the whole afternoon, getting his needed rest and totally forgetting the kids' suggestion.

 

It was a week later when he remembered the young chefs' advice again. Tonight would be their third week of dating. Zoro didn't plan to do anything special about it neither was the cook who was always busy. It had been an uneventful week so far. He was going to call it a night when Sanji burst into his room with a big frown on his face and a complaint on his lips.

"What?"

A brief glance at his face, Zoro knew what it was. The cook apparently had a bad day and needed an ear to listen to his whining.

This was nothing new between them actually.

The cook always came unannounced like this, sprawling on Zoro's mattress and telling him what was wrong with the world today. His favorite subjects were usually his old man, his staff's incompetence, and recently the ceremony preparation. When he finished all of the lists, he'd fall asleep on Zoro’s bed while leaving its owner to figure out where he was supposed to sleep tonight.

Like what was happening right now.

The swordman glared at the sleeping man who had taken over his bed. A selfless man would let the tired cook sleeping on the bed while he took a couch. Zoro was never a selfless man. He sacrificed his bed for no one. 

Zoro not-so-gently shoved the cook to the one side of the mattress with his foot until he’d reclaimed his sleeping spot on the bed. He was about to turn off the light when the earlier conversation he had with younger cooks flashed into his mind. He looked at the man snoring lightly with one side of his face on the pillow and heard a voice, a disembodied whispering in his ear - that he might not come across the perfect moment like this often. It was very persuasive, making him pause and think. 

He'd never ever sing in the public for anyone, knowing he would die a horrible death from the humiliation alone, but this- they were alone. 

The swordsman waved his hand in front of the cook’s closed eyes to make sure he was still off to the dreamland. Well, he'd got the cook but he was unconscious to whatever song Zoro was going to sing for him.

_Good._

The cook wasn’t necessarily needed to be consciously present because Zoro was just testing the idea. Those brats were so adamant that it was such a great experience singing to the loved ones. He just wanted to see if their claim was real and whether he could pull singing off with his rusty vocal cords that had not been in practice for years. 

Zoro  **wasn’t** shy.

Anyway, he went through his memory of songs that Brook used to perform for the crews, searching for a simple one that he could cover. Their skeleton musician had songs for every occasion, even for taking a dump, but Brook was a professional musician which meant his songs could be quite... complicated for someone below a beginner level like Zoro. Banging a mug and clapping hands he could do but not singing along, unless he wanted to join the off-key trio of Usopp, Franky, and Luffy; Brook’s unhelpful chorus.

Zoro felt like giving up the idea which was when his mind finally stumbled on a piece of a song that might work. Surprisingly, it wasn’t in Brook’s collection. It was Sanji's song that he loved to hum whenever he was alone in the galley. Zoro had  _coincidentally_ eavesdropped once or twice because he happened to be looting the kitchen for booze at the same time.

Nevertheless, it could work.

The swordsman glanced back at the sleeping man again, starting to feel nervous as he had realized that he had lower than zero confidence in what he was about to do.

Taking a deep breath, Zoro cleared his throat… as quiet as he could and started humming the tune. 

The cook’s breathing pattern changed almost instantly.

The transition was almost seamless, too small to notice and too easy to miss, but even with his eye closed, Zoro always knew Sanji’s respiratory rate during his slumber – he took fewer breaths than he normally did which meant only one thing: he was already awakened and shamelessly faking sleepiness.

“I thought you were asleep?” asked Zoro flusteredly, feeling very conscious even he hadn’t started singing yet.

“Were.”

“Go back to sleep in your room then.”

Sanji ruffled his head on the pillow, refusing to move. His eyes were still closed.

“Sing.”

“No.”

“You’re supposed to be nice to your date,” the cook pulled out the trump card.

“Tsk,” Zoro put on a mask of exasperation even he wanted to bail out so badly. Singing when the cook was awakened could be nothing short of embarrassment but the cook would tease him to death if he refused anyway. This was like jumping out of the frying pan into the fire; either way, he was screwed.

In the end, Zoro told himself to stop being a coward and just do it. The cook and he had seen each other in their most humiliating forms before. This was going to be embarrassing surely but it could never rank at the top list of Zoro’s shittiest moments. This somehow helped him accept his inevitable fate.

Hesitantly, Zoro sang,

“…I hear… a dream all day

A dream that calls to me

Come home again you sailor man, sailor man.

Home again to the sea.”

He was really bad at it. He knew it, that he would stutter. Zoro tried not to cringe as he listened to himself clumsily stumbling on the notes, gracelessly dragging on a certain part as he’d forgotten the rest of the lyrics. When he finished, he was prepared for a tease or whatever verbal arsenals the cook was planning to shoot at him.

The corner of the cook's mouth turned up in a mirthful yet gentle smile. 

When he opened his mouth, Zoro still expected a mockery but it wasn't what was coming out.

“Where my goal is who can tell

Fare thee well my darling, adieu

While my soul is on the blue

My heart's with you.”

He sang **back.**

"I'm rusty. I've not practiced for age," the cook admitted shyly.

_I didn't notice. You did great._

Zoro was speechless, awestruck by how beautiful the song was when it was sung by Sanji. The cook really had a natural voice for singing: clear, soft and melodic. Sanji, effortlessly, was a better singer than Zoro but he couldn’t find himself to be petty or bitter that he lost in this arena. Sanji didn’t sing back as a bluff. He was simply sharing the song with Zoro and the swordsman felt so privileged, to be able to be with the cook, having his voice exclusively for himself. 

“Zeff likes this song,” the blonde man smiled fondly at the memory of the time long past -of a man with a cigar between his lips, singing the old sailor’s romance to his little boy. From the weird angle where his head was currently laying on the pillow, Zoro could see both of Sanji's eyes as he no longer pretended to be sleepy. The pair of blue orbs stared at him, bright and clear; the iris darkened, a deep navy blue like the sea itself.

"I like it too," said Zoro, realization dawned on him what he really had missed out all along.

He felt overwhelmed, engulfed in the unexplainable source of warmth inside his chest. It told him - no, sang to him,

_Come home again you sailor man, sailor man_

_Home again where you should be._

It urged him... to ask the cook to be his lover. He knew if he did, he would agree. His eyes were telling much but both of them couldn't find in their voices to break the silence. This gentle glow of happiness around them was too precious to break right now.

He would ask Sanji tomorrow.

It would be alright; they were at home.

 

58.

Zoro asked Sanji the next day.

He had planned to wake up before the cook and asked but it seemed he woke up late again. When he was awakened, the cook was already gone, probably at his office right now. Zoro got dressed unhurriedly. The last night was still fresh in his mind; he was in a good mood, optimistic and hopeful. He was surprised that the sky was still dark when he opened the curtain and window to get some fresh air.

Zoro didn't oversleep; the cook just got up earlier than normal.

 _Perhaps he was nervous like me._ Thought Zoro.

Sanji was but not in the kind of way Zoro was feeling. Seeing the cook being jumpy and his face turning paper-white when he saw Zoro made his heart falter, not in that kind of way he wished to feel too.

 

59.

“I’m not ready. Give me time to think, idiot!” Said the cook, giving Zoro no time to respond as he fleed the room.

 

60.

A week had passed.

Their relationship had progressed not in the way the resident swordsman wished. In fact, he believed it had stalled at this point. **  
**

_What did I do wrong?_

_No, what's wrong with **HIM**?_

Needless to say, he gave the cook what he wanted. Space. Time. Whatever the shitty bastard needed, screw him.

He needed them himself too in order to recover from the shock of the unexpected rejection. Time did help a lot. Zoro found the confusion had steadily dissipated, morphing into infuriation. However he looked at it, it was still an ass move - what the cook pulled on him.

He had all but played by the rules that the bastard himself had set and this was what he got?

"This is unfair," grumbled Zoro to no one particular as he was brooding alone in his crow nest. He had refused to have lunch with the cook for seven days straight. Zoro didn't think he was mad at the cook - that would be immature. He didn't start it; it was the cook who started avoiding him first and two could play at that game. There was an awkward air between them, around them and in their lungs which unlike the warm feeling he felt earlier, this one was suffocating, trying to drown him. They still spoke to each other but it was quick and dull and he doubted that even sparring, that always worked for them, could clear this stench of discomfort that had been filling the room. They were drifting apart and he had no fucking idea  **why.**

The ship had been quiet without their bickering and everyone had been on edge but Zoro didn't know how to stop it when the cook wasn't cooperating even it was _his_ fault. 

This was why he hated romantic stuff.

Why was romance such a big deal when it so lacked structures and reliable principles?

In swordsmanship, he always knew which tiers of performance he belonged and which way to pursue to get stronger. In romance, he had absolutely no idea of he was on the right track. It was like a childish game which players were to deliberately be as dishonest as possible about their feelings and did their best to drive the other mad with their indirect signals.

This was why he picked a fight with this snobby pretentious gentleman that Luffy recruited as soon as he stepped a foot on Going Merry. Zoro believed that a person who believed in something so outdated as chivalry and romance could be nothing but a clown, and he was partly right. It turned out he was a good fighter. The cook would be passable as a decent human being if he could not spew out verbal diarrhea about love and worship the ground the witch and Robin walking on every three minutes. Sadly, it wasn’t the case; the man was willing to play a fool.

_You should have fucking asked him that night, stupid._

The part of Zoro's mind still wanted to beat himself. It started to make him wonder too - what did exactly happen between several hours that change the cook's heart so drastically? 

He wasn't blinded. He saw his eyes. They were singing the same song that night. He could never misread it.

 Zoro furrowed his brows when he tried to remember the morning after that - the way Sanji was cast down by something. He looked frightened as if afraid Zoro'd find out something, so he ran. At that time, Zoro was too shocked to notice how off his behavior was, and after that too mad to care. Seven days later as Zoro had finally suppressed the urge to punch him whenever he saw his stupid face in his mind, now he could see that perhaps time was a red herring and not what they both needed. This was a matter of honesty.

They had competed with each other in everything. Named it and it would already be there, somewhere in the long endless list of the contest of performance. Despite the shit talks, they were  **always** honest with each other when needed, even without words being said between them. 

A relationship was about communication, right? He'd give the cook his own medicine.

 

61.

BlackLeg Sanji was having a problem.

No, BlackLeg Sanji was having  **problems.**

First, the weddi— the  **ceremony** was looming, the reaper with a scythe ready to behead the unfortunate souls who had been working day and night yet the hope of finishing the preparation before the deadline was still none. The new oven was broken. That second-rate piece of trash made him miss Franky desperately. They overbaked, surely, but he did give clear instruction to the oven maker to make it handle the ginormous size of Luffy’s cake. It was lucky that that junk could still be patched up and finished its last job before crumbling down to pieces. Sanji still needed a refund and a break. This fucking job was eating his lifespan. He was so certain when it was over, he would probably be dead.

Not to say he still had a restaurant to run and picky customers to please. As the ceremony was approaching, more and more pirate ships had randomly shown, adding more unnecessary work on his hands. He didn’t even have time to spare correcting them about the newspaper’s lies, sending them to Marimo Island just to quickly get rid of them. The island had become a pirate dumpster at this point, with the port packed with pirate vessels and the town's streets crowded with s-class criminals. Several fights had been reported back to Sanji, one of them being a brawl between the Vinsmokes and the pirates from North Blue. Sanji hoped they fought to the death, literally. 

 Zoro wasn't happy about his way of dealing with the pirates. In fact, marimo wasn't happy with about pretty much everything, especially now when he looked like he badly wanted to murder Sanji on sight...which in all fairness, Sanji did deserve it.

The head chef sighed to himself while walking back to his room, exhausted and alone.

How could he explain this to him in a way that Zoro wouldn't see him a complete jerk? Well, he was kinda a jerk now but.

Who could have thought that Zoro, _the Roronoa Zoro_ , would sing to him?  Zoro was a determined man who was taking everything seriously like a mission but he often did things his own way, like thinking an anemone was an okay gift because it looked like a flower enough. But this time. This time, he really went out of his comfort zone _for Sanji_ and he was really, really sweet. The happiness he felt when he heard his favorite song being sung by Zoro was simply indescribable. On top of the world, over the moon, he felt all sort of those feelings and more.

Sanji felt so special; he could have kissed him. He wanted to return all the feeling to Zoro.

He would have done that had he not have that damn nightmare.

 

There was this part of Sanji's brain that was self-preservative. It had kept him alive but it was also paranoid as fuck, seeing the burst of joy a threat to Sanji's life and deciding to give him an antidote to fight against _happiness._ As soon as his head hit the pillow again, foolishly thinking he was going to have a sweet dream, he got a nightmare. Well, not exactly a nightmare, more like revisiting the old memory.

He was again in the room watching a sick woman slowly dying in her bed, alone. She had been living in here for a long time. The proof was all over the wall when the nurses, feeling pity for the woman, allowed her to decorate the room with framed pictures of her family - to make her feel at home. She kept her favorite frame close to her bed, the picture of her children. But there were more photos on the wall. He could have a glimpse into her life through these pictures. One of them was her in her bridal dress. A newlywed with a dreamy expression and a big smile. It hurt him. It hurt him so much to see her when she was young, innocent and lively. Because he knew about the future that the young wife in the picture would never know. _This marriage would kill you._

Sanji woke up with a feeling, completely different than the one he felt before going to bed.

It was the worst wake-up call ever. 

He had avoided Zoro like a coward because he didn't know how to start explaining this to Zoro.

How could he make Zoro see this tangled mess that was their relationship right now?

 

It was like a ball of yarn.

You remembered putting it in a locker, neatly rolled, but when you searched for it again, that yarn somehow got tangled by itself.

His and Zoro’s relationship was like that.

Years of living and fighting together made what at the beginning was just a pair of threads become some sort of Gordian knot, strong and inseparable. If there was anything in his life that Sanji was truly confident about, it was his unbreakable friendship with his nakamas, with Zoro - that whatever happened to them, they would still be friends. But he didn't want to risk it. After all, even the most unsolvable knot in history could be unraveled, laughably easy so, by a simple callous swing of the king’s sword. The bond was gone, unrecoverable, forever. Suddenly, the prospect of getting married did not just make him wary in a kind of curious hopeful way anymore, it frightened him.

Sanji knew what his mind had been doing. He was being unrealistically pessimistic but **he couldn't make it stop.** If he could crack his skull open and remove it from the brain, he would. They were too noisy.

What if the nightmare was the last desperate warning? Was Sanji a one step closer to get his bond with Zoro sliced in half?

_Are you going to be good enough for him?_

 

62. 

The moment he heard a click of his doorknob at night, Sanji knew the time had come. Resigning to fate, the cook placed a bookmark between pages of an old journal on pastry he was reading, choosing to remain by his working desk with his reading glasses on and hoping that he’d appear occupied and not a nervous mess who dreaded of a conversation.

He heard the sounds of Zoro's boots and straightened his back on the chair, purposefully writing something on a blank page of a notebook so he didn’t have to turn his head to look at the swordsman whose eye undoubtedly was staring intensely at the back of his head.

“What do you want?”

“A talk.”

Sanji's tired brain was working too hard to decipher that simple response. This was a disadvantage of not seeing Zoro's face or his body language. He wasn't an expressive man; it was harder to gauge his reaction by words alone.

“Do we have to?” asked Sanji, acting unperturbed and conversational by trying to organize his desk. “I’ve been working all day and quite tired. I think I’m hitting the bed.”

“Fine by me.”

The casualness in Zoro’s voice made the gears in his brain turning crazily. They hadn’t really talked to each other for almost a week so he expected distant coldness but there was none. Marimo sounded _chilling._ They never followed the other’s request without a protest. If Zoro behaved uncharacteristically biddable, it meant he had a plan that Sanji knew he wouldn't like.

When the cook finally looked up, it was already too late. Zoro was already on his bed, claiming the right side of the mattress. He was laying on top of the blanket, still wearing his boots, **the dirty boots** that wereon Sanji’s clean white linen.

“What do you think you are doing?! Get out of my room!”

“Why? I'm just feeling comfortable.”

“It is my room.”

Zoro put his hands behind his head, staring at Sanji challengingly.

“This's my room,” repeated Sanji again despite both knowing he was playing a losing game. The fact that they had been to the other’s room and in the other’s personal space quite a lot in the past did little to support Sanji’s sudden demand for privacy. Zoro had a smug look on his face because he knew it too that he'd won the first round.

Sanji wanted to argue badly. That he did own this place. As its owner, he had the right to access his property. And, all he did to marimo’s room was beneficial to him. He changed the bedding so those disgusting mold, the long lost relative of the mosshead, wouldn’t grow on them. Zoro, on the other hand, burst into Sanji’s room to borrow things and use his bathroom.

“Fine! Stay at your damn side,” grumbled Sanji, kicking marimo’s legs away from the middle of the bed. He glared at several dirty stains on his side where Zoro previously put his boots on. His hands were itching to peel off the sheet and start a midnight laundry. Sanji pinched his nose in annoyance. If they could have a quick talk, he might still have time to do laundry - he reassured himself.

“Just make it quick.”

“Why aren’t we boyfriends yet?”

_Too quick!_

 

Zoro watched in satisfaction as the cook overheated himself, desperately trying to hide his lobster-red face behind the golden bang. Such a disadvantage of being pale. Payback time, asshole.

The cook reached out for his dresser, rummaging for his pack of cigarette and a spare lighter. Zoro waited and watched, letting Sanji quietly compose himself. It was always a good sign when the cook smoked; it meant he was going to be serious. A serious talk was what Zoro needed right now.

The cook lit a cigarette and took his needed nicotine, exhaling the smoke before mumbling, “All train have final destinations. Marriage is the last stop of all lovers," a pause as he took another drag, "What would become of two people after they get married, Marimo?”

“How the hell do I know? I never get married before.”

“True. I almost had a wedding though -” said Sanji with a self-deprecating smile, taking another smoke and totally unaware of Zoro’s scowl at the mention of the crashed wedding. The cook seemed struggling to search for words to say before stopping entirely, lost in his thought as he relived the bittersweet memory of his short visit to the Whole Cake Island. When nothing had yet come out of his mouth but a long trail of smoke, Zoro decided to point out the elephant in the room that he could no longer wait for Sanji to address by himself.

“Are you not ready for marriage in general or marriage with me?”

Perceptive and sharp but also unyielding and blunt. Zoro always asked the right question and said what it needed to be said, sparing no one his mercy.

Sanji winced. It was an unpleasant taste, being forced to confront the truth. It tasted like smoke because he almost choked on it. He closed his eyes, feeling tired but knowing there was no way out for this. It had to be done. “I don’t know,” whispered the cook, genuinely lost. “I just – if we hop on this train, it would be unstoppable and I don’t know if it’d -"  _makes me lose you._

“- I fantasize getting married quite often, Marimo.” Sanji decided to take a quick turn the last minute to change the course of the sentence, hoping he could make it easier for both of them, “And if I do say myself, I’m a man with vividly graphic imagination but this domestic-bliss fantasy of mine... seems to be the only one that is always blurry. In my dream, I was in love with my lover – or I think I was but there was nothing special in the way I adored her. I simply played the role of a chivalrous knight I’ve played million times. The wife had no face and the kids had no names. Whenever they come closer I could touch or see their face, I always wake up –  **and feel relieved.”** He clenched his jaw, trying to get the final part out of his chest. “Zoro, I wonder if I can really picture myself as someone’s husband.”

The cigarette had burnt out while he was speaking. He finally confessed. He threw the butt away, feeling tired and ashamed. He had perhaps known about his true self all along but was in denial to accept that he might not be created for a relationship that lasted.

In his whole life, Sanji had believed in the ordeal of love. Life perished but love always prevailed.

Was not love at its utmost beautiful when it was unrequited? Wasn’t it powerful as it forced a man to suffer in its name for the love that was never his to possess? 

Perhaps, the reason why he had been attracted to the idea so much was that it was easy this way. This way he could give out love as much as he could, being a part of its powerful stories and fairytales without having to bother his head over the impossible – like if someone could love him back. He was alright without getting any - he honestly believed that. Life was easy for him this way; he hurt no one and was hurt no more. But there were always these kind people, like Pudding-chan who even his overt perversion couldn't keep them away from getting close to the like of him. He underestimated her kindness. When he noticed she looked like to return his feeling, Sanji knew he had to stop fooling around to protect her heart. Still, he thought he did hurt her back then. It was for her own good... She was a beautiful, passionate and strong lady; she needed no man or if she wanted one, it should be someone better than him.

Someone was offering his love to Sanji again.

This time, he was not just somebody that Sanji could turn down the offer with a small price to pay. This man was Roronoa Zoro, his crewmate and a friend, one of the few people in the world whom Sanji rather died than seeing them hurt by his hands - because he was broken. It was only fair that Zoro knew this flaw of his. He had gotten all the thing he needed to decide- what he wanted to do, or no longer wanted to do with their relationship or with Sanji and he'd respect his decision.

“That’s it?”

That was the first thing that came out of marimo's damn mouth.

 

63.

For the first time in many years, Sanji wanted to  _punch_  someone. He had just poured his heart out to Zoro for his moss's ass sake. It was fucking painful for him and definitely not just  _that’s it_. If this wasn't enough - if Zoro wanted more elaboration, he’d fucking get it. 

He quickly lit himself a second cigarette, taking a long frustrating drag before crushing it on the dresser. He knew he would never finish it when he started to talk.

“Zoro, I believe at some point, Judge married my mother because he loved her. At the beginning of everything, his attempt to unite a country was probably for her, but along the way, he fell out of love. And when someone falls out of love, they don’t return back to the surface before they fall in love. They just keep falling down into that hole... until they see nothing but the pitch of darkness. What if marriage commands us to change? What if we comply and what if we deny? Would not that destroy everything we’ve come to treasure?”

Sanji finished, panting and trying desperately to blink away angry tears. He knew his eyes were red but like hell, he would avoid Zoro's eye. No, Sanji stubbornly leveled his glare on Zoro who had watched Sanji crumbling down before his eye with the face that annoyingly still remained collected.

“You are thinking too much into things that haven’t happened yet," pointed out marimo, unaffected by Sanji’s agitation.

“And you are thinking too less into everything!” snapped Sanji, grabbing Zoro by the collar of his shirt and raising his fist, ready to deliver a blow.

Not knowing he was an inch away from being strangled, Zoro grinned.

“So, we are perfectly matched,” concluded marimo victoriously, out of the blue. “You tell me what I need to know and I tell you when to stop freaking out.”

Sanji was lost for words. There were so many things wrong in that sentence. 

“I have a valid reason to  _‘freak out’," S_ anji reluctantly released his hold on the man's collar and unclench his fist. The now free hand went to search for his pack of cigarettes that he had let go while trying to choke marimo and almost punch him.

“You always find the reason,” Zoro nodded his head, still looking chilling. “You like to figure everything out three steps ahead, always trying to minimize risks and keeping everyone safe from unnecessary confrontations. It was Luffy and me who charged headfirst into battle because we wanted to test our strength against the enemy’s.”

“I fought too, idiot," Sanji said irritably, itching for a smoke.

“Because you got jealous of my bounty.”

“I got a higher bounty than you,” the cook quickly reminded him, voice raising to Zoro’s provoke.

“One time. After that, my bounty has always been higher until today.”

“The marine is a group of idiots who leaves their fucking eyes at home. Thinking about those incompetent fools makes me mad. Why did you bring this issue up for- you wanna fight?” huffed Sanji, finding the lighter and the cigarette pack cig and quickly lighting himself a new one. He intended to finish on this one.

Sanji didn't realize that he was now smoking out of pure annoyance and not stress but the swordsman noticed. He suppressed his smile.

“I see your fighting spirit is back, shit cook.”

“…What?” 

“What was the last time we did team-up together?”

"Why- are you in a reminiscing mood or something, old man?"

"If I'm old, you're old too. Just answer the question."

“Did you count when we played docking 15 against Oars?”

“It didn’t exist.”

After all those years, Zoro was still embarrassed about that incident. Sanji snickered for the first time since the conversation started. 

“The Davy Back fight, then.”

“Ah, I remember you looked fucking stupid in that hat, Ballman.”

Sanji kicked Zoro under the blanket. The kick _scorched_ his leg. It hurt like being hit by a hot branding iron. The cook must heat it up a little before kicking, the real asshole.

 _The cook is back_ , thought Zoro, relieved. 

 

64. 

He was just good at a poker face.

Zoro wasn't calm, not at all, especially not after listening to the man he cared beating and blaming himself. He had prepared himself for the talk but even it didn't prepare him enough for the fucking mess that was the cook's head.

None of them had a good role model for a relationship but because of his past, Sanji would always be the hesitant one out of the two. Zoro had always known this. He didn't know what triggered him this time but it didn't matter; they'd deal with his self-hatred now.

It made him mad because it was **never** alright to be content with scraps of love. No one deserved that.

It pissed him off badly because even as an orphan, Zoro never felt lacking anything during his childhood. Koshiro and Kuina were always there for him. And here was Sanji who was born a _prince -_ who decades later was still suffering the consequences of an abusive asshole’s actions. Fate was a fucking twisted bastard.

He wished they could have had a talk in a better circumstance when the cook wasn't this emotionally wrecked even he was fully aware that it was never going to be any easier.

He didn't say anything, letting the cook finish his third cigarette in peace first.

 

Sanji flicked away the finished cigarette butt, feeling better. He was still exhausted but his mind was a bit clearer now.

He glanced sideways to marimo sitting still beside him.

"Just say what do you want to say, shit head."

The swordsman looked back at the cook. Their eyes met. Zoro knew this wasn't going to be the last time he'd see the man in this vulnerable state when he doubted everything. The pain was a part of Sanji despite how much Zoro wished there could be a way to end his pain.

 _They'll be okay._ His mind told him and it was telling the truth.

He'd made a decision - long ago even before he realized he wanted to spend life with the cook - that he'd tell Sanji, anytime and anyplace, whenever he needed to hear it, that he was worthy. That he deserved the world. He had been doing this for the cook since the disbandment and if he was allowed, he would be willing to tell him the same thing for the rest of his life.

"If you want to wait, I'll wait for how long it'd take. But -" _but I want you to see this - that there could be our future, together and we'll make it be different. Different than your mother's._ “Fight for it once more, cook. Let’s try the strength of our bond against the world and see if we could triumph marriage.”

And he said what he needed to be said. The rest was up to the cook.

 

Zoro sounded uncannily like that one young man Sanji once knew. The way he phrased his words was like the old times when the swordsman asked them all to give their best to beat the enemies. The way he spoke, eye shining bright, there were still much of the boy in the man, fearless and ambitious, who always believed in the endless possibilities. But it was his tone that was different, almost pleading. He sounded humble. He was different now, not that stupid boy who wanted to throw his life at any chance, less arrogant and more mature. He was aware of the difficulties, knowing what he just asked Sanji was never going to be easy for both of them. Zoro begged for Sanji's help while also challenging him. 

He was the only one who could drive him to surpass his limit, making him feel everything all at once. Admiration. Indignation. Rivalry. Only Zoro could make him want to worship him and beat the hell out of him at the same time.

Sanji opened his locker to put back the lighter and the cigarette pack. He had had enough cancer for tonight.

_If he can believe in it, why could not I? Am I not his equal?_

"Idiot marimo talking about marriage when we aren't even boyfriends -" snorted Sanji but wasn't callous to leave it hanging in the air too long for Zoro to misunderstand his intention, “Will you be my boyfriend, Zoro?” He finished with a big shit-eating grin. He couldn't let the mosshead do all the work and take all the credit, after all.

Did you ever know when his emotions changed, the shades of his grey eye changed with them?

From a flash of disappointment to a pleasant surprise, Zoro's eye finally settled on the warmest shade of grey.

He finally grinned back.

“Aye.”

 

65.

Zoro woke up just before the break of dawn. This time with the cook by his side, using his arm as a pillow, cuddling him.

It felt  _amazing._

Last night was almost dreamlike. Zoro didn't know which one of them fell asleep first. The lingering anxiety from the talk had prevented them from going back to sleep so they chose to kill time by talking more about things that came to their mind, miscellaneous, small and not a relationship-related because they were too tired for anything heavy. It could wait for tomorrow.

_We are lovers now._

The bodiless beast inside of him let out a purr of contentment. Zoro couldn't agree more with it; he felt like purring too.

That, until the other part of his mind, one that was cautious and doubtful, unhelpfully voiced “?” after the sentence that was already perfect, to make it questionable whether the last night’s achievement did happen or it was just Zoro’s emotion-laden perception of a less lively reality.

A confirmation wouldn’t hurt.

The swordsman watched the cook who slept soundly in his arms. He hovered his hand above the cook’s peaceful face, making up his mind and… pinching Sanji's cheek as hard as he could. He forgot to mention that he always had an inhuman strength.

The cook yelped, jerking awake and looking around drowsily.

Zoro felt the immense surge of raw satisfaction.

It was hard for Zoro to choose from which parts of the cook’s body to assault. What kind of a man laid himself vulnerable and defenseless before his archrival? It was a simple invitation to be bullied. He simply couldn't resist the temptation and had no regrets, not even when Sanji smacked Zoro’s head, hard enough for his head to hit the wall and bounced back.

“What the hell, marimo!?”

“Oi, cook – have you chickened out yet? Are we still boyfriends?”

“Of course not, and yes. Let’s me fucking sleep,” the cook grumbled under his breath. He was a sight to behold, ruffled hair, sleepy eyes, and a one-side reddened cheek. The cook rubbed his hand on the cheek where Zoro pinched, giving him a glare. He expected further retaliation but the cook just threw the blanket over his head, shielding his sensitive eyes from the irritation of the sunlight and going back to sleep. The cook wriggled under his cocoon of the covers several minutes before going still, steadily filling the room again with the familiar sound of his light snoring.

Zoro had a self-revelation again. This time, shorter and more honest.

_I love you._

_I love you, so much._

66.

To be honest, nothing had significantly changed between marimo and him since the night they became boyfriends. He didn’t suddenly see Zoro in a different light and find a new strong urge to be overly affectionate with him.

Zoro was still Zoro, the same wayward, unemployed and smelly swordsman. The idea of getting mushy with someone who bathed once a week was too horrified for Sanji to let it stay in his consciousness for a mere minute. Better he banished it to the back of his mind.

But something had become different too. Small things. Sanji finally understood what used to be unperceivable to him in the past. Like, the unexplainable joy he often got when he had Zoro’s undivided attention or the unknown frustration he had when he had to think of reasons anytime he wanted to linger his touch on the swordsman. These might be – and this was still a hypothesis, not a fact, mind you – because Sanji had been in love with marimo far longer than he realized.

_In love._

He often masked the feeling as merely physical attraction.  It was like trying to fit in a shoe three size smaller; he knew it was more than that but the risk of getting them in an awkward predicament was too high so he had closed one of his eyes so he could sleep at night.

He didn’t have to suppress anything, anymore.

Sanji felt so _liberated_. He could openly demand Zoro’s attention now because he was his _boyfriend._ He could touch the man for no reasons and owed no one an explanation now because, know what, he was touching his _boyfriend_. Who knew, one word could solve most if not all of his past dilemmas. He felt like grinning. He was grinning.

Sanji couldn’t stop grinning, fully realizing he was going to hurt his cheeks later and that he'd look like a mad man to his staff but _like hell, I care._

 

The Baratie crews had mixed feelings about the couple who _finally_ acknowledged their couple-y relationship. They didn't know whether to feel relieved or scared. The former feeling was understandable as they all had been waiting for this time since forever. The latter, on the other hand, was that they did know what to do with a happy head-chef. He was _too_ nice.

Redleg Zeff, the wise old man on the ship, scoffed at those scaredy cats. When Eggplant was mad, they were afraid; when he was nice, they were afraid. What the heck was wrong with these brats? Where was their toughness of the sailors?

Zeff watched as the shitty Eggplant happily marinating chicken tenders for his dinner date tonight, looking stupidly happy. The old man also knew that if he went outside the kitchen, he would run into the brat's boyfriend. The grass lawn had been seen loitering around the hallway since the morning, like an excitable dog waiting for its owner.

Was Zeff happy? Nah, this hadn’t been over yet.

He’d answer the question again when these two retards finally got married.

And gave him grandkids.

 

67.

The dinner date was supposed to be their little celebration of the one-week anniversary as lovers. The cook would prepare the dinner and Zoro would do all the table setting stuff on the rooftop of the restaurant. The theme (oh dear lord, he'd just learned that eating needed to have a theme) set by the cook was a candlelight dinner among the stars.

There was none. Tonight was a cloudy starless night. The cook should have learned from the sea witch that weather was unpredictable but it wasn't like Zoro cared. He just wanted the cook and the food. Well, at this moment, food was his top priority. They had not eaten anything since lunch so Zoro was a bit keen to sit down and have something to eat- that if the cook finally fucking serve them meal already.

It wasn't like Sanji didn't want to eat. He was fucking hungry too but he just couldn't. His dignity as a chef and a gentleman was at stake.

Upon seeing the source of lighting on the table, the cook told him dryly that a storm lamp wasn’t _romantic_ at all, demanding Zoro to go change the appliance. Zoro, on the contrary, didn’t see the point to go downstairs to replaced a lamp with a candle when the former could do the job just fine, even better.

“It gives brighter and longer light,” pointed out the swordsman in a desperate attempt to make the snotty cook see reason. In the dim light, Zoro could still see the withering look of the cook. Sanji purposefully ignored his valid argument and insisted on Zoro getting the traditional candle despite all of its impracticality or no food.

 Zoro was now both hungry and angry. The latter overpowered the former so Zoro firmly planted his ass on the chair, determining not to get up until he got to eat.

Sanji wished he could kick the manchild overboard. He would have done that had not he been busy balancing plates of their dinner on his head and both of his arms, (couldn’t put them on the table yet or moss would steal and refuse to go get the damn candle.) He weighed on his mind whether kicking him or playing nice would get marimo to move quicker. 

He decided on softening him up.

“Marimo, no one wants brighter and longer light on their date night. They want to make out under dimmed candlelight when the course is over.”

"..."

"..."

“Oh.”

The prospect of post-dinner intimacy was too far-fetching to turn it down, Zoro had no choice but to go get a candle.

 _Finally,_ sighed Sanji, sitting down on his chair and waiting for Zoro to come back before realizing something very important-

 

That it took Zoro about three times longer than a normal human being to do a simple task like fetching a candle.

 

By the time Zoro got back, the food already went cold, so was Sanji’s expression.

The cook was looking at him coolly from his seat, one’s leg crossed, and tapping fingers on the table. Zoro suppressed the urge to shudder under the man’s icy glare. In this situation, a sensible man would come up with a believable explanation to save his own hide but Zoro was not a man to hide behind excuses, not because he didn’t want too, sometimes he desperately wanted to, but he just could come up with any good ones.

So, he did what he could and had been doing all along: bursting out the first thing that came to his mind. “So, you still wanna make out after the meal?” asked Zoro, scratching his cheek and looking uncharacteristically timid like a puppy who was still hopeful for a snack even he had just made a mess.

“ **No** ," said Sanji in his most stern voice, stretching out his hand, a silent asking for a candle which Zoro gave without a protest. The side of Sanji's mouth slowly twisted up, changing from a scowl to a soft smile before breaking into a full chortle.

This man was unbelievable. Who had the audacity to ask for a prize after getting lost for two hours in a ship he had been living for five years? The way he instantly deflated, turning from hopeful to dejected, by Sanji's rejection, was so comical. 

He felt stupid for being mad at Zoro for getting lost. Of course, marimo would get lost!

He felt silly for getting himself worked up by the unrealistic expectation. This was Zoro, not a random lady - he didn't have to impress anyone here. Obviously, he was annoyed that he had to sit in the dark for two hours watching the food turn cold and wouldn’t taste as good as when it was hot, but the sight of the mosshead looking adorably like a kicked puppy seemed to be enough to dissipate all Sanji’s annoyance.

“You are a miracle child, marimo. Who could fucking take two hours to get a candle that is just downstairs, Yayayayayayaya!”

Zoro, meanwhile, had never heard this kind of laughter from the cook since Thriller Bark when Perona’s negative ghost forced him into the most pathetic, most humiliating state of a human being in front of his eyes, dark blush rapidly creeping on his tanned face.

“Shut up!” shouted back the indignant swordsman before adding, “Your laughter is fucking childish."

Sanji was humming smugly, throwing the candle up and down, not lighting it up yet. He wasn’t in no hurry; there was no need to hurry at this as their food was already cold. Goading was more important and more fun.

“You know what else’s childish?”

Zoro braced himself when the cook revealed his foxlike grin, “A man whose escape plan was to cut off his own legs to avoid being turned into a human candle. Brilliant.”

The cook wasn’t there to see Zoro attempting the incredulous feat with his own eyes, too busy sipping tea somewhere in the forest. Nevertheless, as soon as he learned about it, the story had become the cook’s precious materials for teasing and it had been ten years already, damn cook.

“I didn’t plan to escape. I planned to fight and win,” Zoro crossed his arms over his chest stubbornly. A petulant posture he employed whenever he felt unjustly offended and was unable to protect himself with a normal method involving physical attacks. “In my defense, I was 19. What did you fucking expect a teenager to do when he was stuck in wax?”

“Definitely not amputation; my teenage self would never. We didn’t even have Chopper on the ship back then - that was simply a suicide,” Sanji countered easily, amused by the man’s futile attempt to clear his name from the idiot list.

Finally, Sanji lit the candle, letting the glowing light softly illuminated their table and the surrounding. He gestured the moss who had been standing all the time to sit down. The cook put his hands under the chin and sighed at the beautiful sight that was a table with candlelight, “See, isn’t it beautiful?”

Zoro looked at it with the intensity of a caveman who had just discovered fire.

“You’ve ruined it when you've brought up your lover’s mistake he did a decade ago,” Zoro huffed before picking a fork, totally unappreciative of Sanji’s education on romance.

He'd admit to himself that the soft glowing light and its shadow that cast on one side of the cook's face did make Sanji's feature look softened yet alluring at the same time.

“You ruined it first. I specifically told you ahead to get **a candle** yet you brought a goddamn lamp, stupid marimo!"

And, whatever the spell that candlelight had cast on them, it was broken now.

They continued to bicker until the last beam of candlelight. When the light went out, the sky was coincidentally clear of clouds, stars filling the darkness and shining brightly above the calm All Blue.

Did they make out?

Only the stars could tell.

 

 68.

The head chef of the Baratie fell down on the kitchen's cold floor, clutching his chest. The pain was written over his face.

“Head chef!” the cooks yelled, all abandoning their works and rushing to their boss's side.

Sanji felt like his heart got electrocuted by a god’s lightning strike again. 

This feeling could only mean one thing, he thought, looking grim.

 _They_ had arrived.

 

“If any of you spot a ship which looks like it’s fucking clouded in pink dust and rainbows of hell, turn the ship and sail opposite direction. If you get captured, then die but no one tells that damn queen my whereabouts, and in no circumstance that you give them Marimo Island’s coordinates. I'll kill you, got it?”

It was their boss's last order before he ran away the kitchen, letting his sous chefs and all poor waiters handling the arrival of the transvestites by themselves. 

 

"Such great leadership you have," reprimanded Zoro, squatting down and trying to see the man currently hiding in his wardrobe through a small creak between the doors. He had given up trying to open it because the cook kept slapping his hands away while hissing like a feral cat.

“This is rude. He was your mentor." He shook his head disappointingly because this was really pathetic even for the cook. 

“ It happened because Kuma was an asshole,” said the cook, voice muffled, “I was in hell for 2 years. I'm not gonna relive it again.”

“How bad could it be? I trained under Mihawk for 2 years too, with Perona annoying the hell out of me on a daily basis,” Zoro told, simply wanting to point out that all of them suffered from the training. He had no intention to rub on Sanji’s face that he’d spent two years with a beautiful girl - he saw no beauty in Perona but her brattiness- but because Zoro was never good with phrasing and Sanji was easily irritable, it resulted in the cook being bitter and salty. Even in the dark, he could feel the closet monster looking daggers at him. “I could kill to be in your place. I could kill you right now. Don’t talk to me,” spat vehemently his _lover,_ giving Zoro a cold shoulder.

Zoro shrugged, letting the cook hide as much as he pleased. He closed the door to his bedroom even though he doubted it would make a difference if Ivankov really wanted to find the cook. Without the cook to keep his company, Zoro's first thought was to take a lazy stroll to kill time before taking a nap.

That was when he got a new and better idea.

While the cook was hiding, his chefs must be busy which meant the path was now clear for him to steal some good booze that not felt like it was watered down.

Zoro hummed, pleased with himself and he took a change in the direction, heading to the dining hall.

 

When he entered the hall, he found that every table was occupied by Okamas eating and fluttering eyelashes at the very uncomfortable waiters. All eyes had been on the swordsman as soon as he stepped a foot inside. The Okamas were giving him kisses and winks while the waiters were sending him the quiet plea to do something.

Zoro had no plan to engage with neither of them; he just wanted booze. 

His plan to ignore the transvestites and go grab booze was interrupted, blocking by a sturdy man in a purple leotard who was looking at him head-to-toe with gleeful interest.

 

“I called it! Candie digs bad boys," said the redhead Caroline triumphantly while the other Okamas giggling along with her. Zoro didn't comment anything even his name had been mentioned in their conversation several times by now, too busy helping himself with the booze the Okamas had ordered and thinking he did the right thing to come sit with the Okama queen and his Newkama Kenpo masters when he was invited.

After all, Zoro saw no point to refuse people's generosity when they were offering to pay for his drink.

"So Zoro boy," Ivankov called for his attention, with his full-toothed grin that Zoro wasn't sure that was his real mouth or just a makeup because he had been wearing the same grin since Zoro had met him. Could he physically close his mouth?  "Don't you happen to know where Sanji boy is, do you?"

Zoro gulped down a large swing of beer straight from the bottle before answering him diplomatically, “I do not meddle in what’s not my business.”

The Okamas squealed, "How loyal!" He wasn't, not in that sense of obedience anyway. He just didn't want to be on the cook's bad side. Especially not after he had discovered how pleasant his life could be when Sanji was being openly affectionate with him. He'd rather spend time with a happy Sanji than a rabid one any day. Snitching would give him a rabid one.

Ivankov chuckled, "That's alright, me and Sanji boy could catch up later. Today, our girls are already tired from traveling, we might depart earlier-" The cook would be overjoyed to hear that, Zoro thought. It was not like the wardrobe was the most comfortable place for hiding. "Don't you know a place for us to disembark until the wedding day?"

Zoro frowned slightly, remembering that the cook did threaten everyone not to give Ivankov their island's coordinates. Zoro wasn't afraid of the cook's threat but he would admit he would prefer not to hear his endless nagging. It gave annoyance to a whole new level.

“Cannot you find it yourself?”

Ivankov grinned mischievously, "We can pry anything out of anyone but we always have a soft spot for pitiful boys like those waiters. Consent matters, you know. So you will tell me where to find that mysterious island that my naughty boy is trying to keep it away from me, yeehaw!" He shouted with a wink while holding a tiny cup of tea in his hand like a harmless granny, making it look intimidating in a weird sort of disturbing way. 

Zoro would not expect any less from an ex-revolutionist of a commander level and the cook's mentor.

"No. Thanks for the booze anyway," refused Zoro, standing up and preparing to leave. 

“I have something to trade for the coordinates,” bargained Ivankov, still having that full-toothed grin that started to get on Zoro's nerves.

“Not interested.”

“Aren’t you curious why we call him ‘Candie’?” the cunning queen said and fished out something from his...leotard?

A quick glimpse into the items and Zoro knew he'd lost already this mind game.

 

He gave the Okama queen the coordinates. He also might help them load food and water on their ship for the voyage. After that, he went back to his room to tell the cook that Ivankov had gone before kicking him out of his wardrobe and locking the door.

Zoro wanted a little privacy so he could cherish his hard-won treasure. A photo set of the cook when he was in Momoiro Island, in different positions and various kinds of dresses. 

This wasn't him being a pervert or anything. He definitely didn't risk Sanji's wrath on a whim just to see him in a hilarious pink chiffon dress and cakey makeup although some were quite breathtaking when he toned down the makeup... but that was beside the point!

It was just that he had never had a picture of a 19-year-old Sanji before.

He didn't realize that he'd need it until Ivankov fanning the photos in front of him. No one on their ship had a camera; the closest thing he had of the cook's picture was his badly drawn wanted poster. Seeing the pictures of young Sanji again had brought back so much fond memories of the old days when they were just starting the pirate career. He felt like he could picture them now, those teenagers training hard to come back to his crewmates.

The 19-year-old Zoro was lucky though he got to keep his pants while training, unlike a certain Eyebrows, snickered Zoro, placing the album under his pillow.

 

69.

Not a single soul on the Baratie could sleep tonight, all watching in trepidation for the final signal to abandon ship. The boat had been shaken violently by the _couple's fight_  that had been going on for hours now.

"GIVE ME BACK MY PICTURES!" they heard the swordsman's thunderous roar, probably the loudest sound he had ever made while living here.

"YOUR PICTURES HAVE MY FUCKING FACE ON IT. FUCK YOU, MARIMO! I'M CONFISTICATING THIS BLASPHEMY!"

"Where is the owner-chef when we need him?" They all groaned, trying fruitlessly to sleep.

 

Zeff had been taking days off, taking his doctor's advice (" _let the kids take care of their own problem and you take care of your high blood pressure"_ ,) and going on a fishing trip with the fishermen of his age. 

Zeff was having a great night, catching a weird fish and having a hot sake with his fishing pals.

His kids, not so much.

 

70.

It was perhaps their real fight as a couple. It started because the cook fucking came to clean Zoro’s room and found out the picture Zoro put under his pillow.

“If you go behind my back again, I’m not going to propose, you idiot!” Yelled Sanji, steam coming out of his ears, the pictures crumbled in one of his hand.

“Who makes the rule that you’ll propose. I’ll propose!” Zoro raised his voice, equally furious. Fuck the cook. Who would know that man would come cleaning his room in the evening. Who fucking cleaned a room in the evening?

“Just because I wore a skirt once which I was forced into! That mistake doesn't mean you’d wear the pants in our relationship!”

“Are you insane?! I’ve not fucking said a single word about your crossdressing hobby- don’t put words in my mouth! I’ll propose because I’m a man more fitting for the job!”

“How so!?”

“Because I’m better than you, in every way. That's so!”

“Oh really!? Let's see who propose first with a proper ring, win. The loser wears a skirt for a whole month."

"Fine by me. Get the hell out of my room."

The cook gave him the finger before storming back to his quarter. Zoro responded in kind with a _bigger_ flip off. Both went to bed believing that they were the one that was wronged and a determination that they would not get married if they weren't the one who proposed first!

 

Time was 7 days before the ceremony. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song that they sang in part 57 is "I hear a dream" sung by Vera Lynn; a different version featured also in Gulliver's Travels (1939). I put the song's links in this description below. I hope you check them out; this oldies but goodie music :)  
> Vera's version: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G2ip_XQ_n3Y  
> Gulliver's version: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VEqawMf7fKo


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone. First of all, thank you for your comments, kudos, and support. I don't know how to say but they mean so much to me. This fic was originally supposed to be a short one but everyone's kind words keep motivating me to write and try to write better. I hope you all enjoy this chapter.  
> In the next chapter, we'll see the conclusion of the story!

71.

You might be wondering what the other Strawhats had been up to while their crewmates had been caught up in the rollercoaster of feelings.

Let's rewind back to several weeks ago. The very same day when the newspaper disaster took place. 

 

_Water Seven, early in the morning._

The blue-haired shipwright was about to begin his first task of the day at the Franky House's shipyard. About a week ago, Franky bought an old caravel-type fishing ship on a whim. Its former owner wanted the ship to be dismantled, with any valuable parts stripped for resale. Franky could tell from the first glance that the ship was special. From its strong foundation to intricate wood-carving designs, the ship was certainly built by some skillful shipwrights of the past. It would such a shame that its journey to end right here when it was still pretty much alive. It took Franky a week to clear his chaotic schedule to finally have a good look at the little caravel, to see what could be done to get her to sail the open sea again. 

The workers had already gathered around the ship but before Franky could instruct them what to do, everyone heard a loud scream coming from the Franky House's headquarter that for five years had served as the office of the Pirate King and his legendary navigator. Without thinking, Franky thrust his chart at his junior shipboard supervisor and sprinted back to the house.

He burst into the room with his huge body; the door immediately shattered into tiny pieces of splinters and sent flying everywhere. Franky didn't care about the damages on his property, he could fix it anytime. What was important to him the most was his nakama inside the room. Nami was sitting on the floor, clutching on the newspaper with a teary face.

“What’s wrong, sis?!” He asked in concern and didn't wait for her answer. The cyborg had his artificial eyes zoom in the newspaper's on Nami's grip and quickly scanned the whole paper for what could possibly be written in there to make his strong nakama cry in distress.

The process actually took less than a minute but after the first scanning result came out, Franky paused and repeated the process again. For three times. Including lowering his sunglasses to read in an old-fashioned way. Just to make sure that he didn't misread it.

The readhead chuckled at his reaction.

"I know right? I could hardly believe it at first. Then, I felt so overwhelmed, I had to cry," said Nami with an apologetic smile. "Sorry 'bout that -- for making you run back here for no reason." Her face was indeed covered in tears but her brown eyes were sparkling. It was the joy that she was feeling, not distress.

Franky grinned back at his friend. " Next time when you hear great news like this just yell: SUPERRR! So, I don't have to guess!”

Nami laughed, "Let's call the others, Franky!"

"Super!!"

 

Nami had quickly gathered all the Den-Den Mushi devices they had in the house while Franky made a quick run to the shipyard to tell his men to proceed with the examination without him. When he came back, Robin, Usopp, Brook, and Chopper had already been on the line. Just from hearing his nakamas' voices together again made Franky feel suddenly emotional; he had to shed some manly tears to compose himself before joining the conversation.

"Franky-san, have you been crying, yohohoho?" Brook noticed Franky's quietest sniffling noise. As expected from the great musician, Brook's ears were always sharp even he actually had no ears anymore. Franky thought. As if she read his mind, Robin interjected coolly,

"You might think you are discreet but you are always loud, Franky."

"Hey!"

“I still can’t believe they are finally getting married,” Nami patiently guided them back to the real topic, “It’s a miracle that they've figured things out by themselves.”

“They do owe you, Nami. It was you who suggested our swordsman-san to stay with cook-san after the disbandment,” Robin said.

“ I just gave them the little push. But thanks for reminding me, Robin. Usopp, **you** owe me three million berries because Sanji-Kun and Zoro are getting married before you and Kaya!” Nami cried triumphantly. Today seemed to be her good day; she would get richer, with some extra berries in her pocket for the next shopping trip.

"Was this your reason to organize the group call?!" Usopp groaned, clearly unhappy. He didn't expect to lose a huge fortune from talking to his friends for the first time in five years. " I thought we are going to plan together what kinds of gifts to give to them at the wedding!"

“Well, that’s too. But 97.99% is to claim my money.”

“That’s not nice nor it's fair. I'm about to propose to Kaya! Crap," Usopp cursed, still couldn't get over the loss of his money. "I thought I would win – I mean, it’s Sanji and Zoro we are talking about. They are as dumb as a rock when it comes to the relationship!”

“Well, it’s your fault to not grow a pair of balls to propose before those two grow a pair of brains. Gimme my money and propose to Kaya or I’ll increase your debt interest."

"I'm glad that Nami-san is vicious as always, yohohoho!" Brook laughed, feeling delightful. 

"There is nothing to rejoice about that, Brook!"

“In some cultures, men will live in the bride’s house and offer his labor for her family as a part of the courting ritual to secure her hand in marriage,” Robin explained out of the blue. It was a very Robin’s thing to give people a piece of knowledge they don’t know what to do with or want it in the first place. Franky always saw her bizarre inputs to the discussion as her way of saying she was happy to be here. Still, she was a weirdo.

“Robin, I love you but I don’t think Zoro and Sanji-Kun are aware of the existence of this particular culture. And, I also don't think Zoro has been helpful to Sanji-Kun's restaurant in any shape or form. He is a freeloader." Nami had no faith in her vice-captain. 

“It’s interesting, Robin! Where I can find the book?” Chopper chimed in.

“Who let Chopper in the adult talk!” Usopp teased. Chopper didn’t see his face to know that he was joking. The naive reindeer shrieked angrily at the phone. The small den-den Mushi reacted with a pouty face similarly to its young caller. 

“I’m an adult, you bastard! Don’t you dare exclude me! I read about human marriage and know everything! I want to be a flower boy!”

 _'That is a position for a kid, not an adult.'_ Everyone suppressed their laughter and played along with their youngest friend.

“No way, I call dip the flower boy!” Franky joined Usopp in bullying Chopper.

“Franky…” Robin warned.

Chopper’s word did make Nami realize that something was off about this situation. She was too happy to notice at first but the more she thought, the more it was unlikely for both Sanji and Zoro to publicize their personal affair, especially without telling the other Strawhats first.

“Hey, everyone. Don’t you think it’s a bit weird that they didn’t let us know about the wedding before telling the press? Or ask for our help."

Franky scratched his chin thoughtfully, "Two months ago, I got a call from Sanji asking for Luffy's coordinates. He was up to something, said it was a surprise so I didn't pry."

"Cook-san might want to tell us when they are ready. It's possible that someone might leak it to the newspaper," Robin analyzed. 

"I think we don't have to look too far for the culprit who started it all..." Usopp said. Whenever Luffy's name was mentioned in the story, everyone reached the same conclusion.

"Where is that idiot again...I really need a drink," Nami murmured to herself.

 

72.

They decided to respect their nakamas' decision and wait for the two to contact them by themselves. Three days later, the first letter signed from the floating restaurant arrived in every Strawhat's mailboxes. From the handwriting, it clearly belonged to Sanji. But, the disarray manner and the lack of Sanji-ly aesthetics like perfumed letters (girl only), and his curly signature, was an obvious signpost that its writer was too upset to bother with his usual embellishment.

_'WE ARE NOT GETTING MARRIED. THE NEWS IS A LIE. I WILL FIND THE MOLE AND KILL IT. Love, Sanji.'_

"Cook-bro was mad," Franky commented to the navigator who had gone silent after reading the letter. The cyborg tried to shake the empty envelope in the hope of finding another hidden message inside. He couldn't hide his disappointment when he found none. "Huh, it's a rumor after all?"

Nami slammed her hand on the table, "Damn it, Sanji-Kun! you've just made me lose my three million berries!"

"Yeah, it seems someone here is mad too," Franky mumbled to himself. "Today is not super."

 

They received another letter, sent shortly after the first one. This time, it was much more coherent like the writer had finally pulled himself together to sit down, write it properly, and calmly refrain himself from shouting in capital letters.

 _'My apologies for my inappropriate outburst in the previous letter. This is to clarify that Zoro and I are not getting married. Period. However, there will be a celebration for_ _the 5th year anniversary of the Baratie's All Blue_ _by the end of the next month_ _and I want to invite you, my friend, to celebrate with ~~marimo and I,~~ my crew and I. I'm looking forward to cooking for you guys again. Regarding the culprit who spread the so **utterly untrue**_ _rumor_ _about marimo and me, I found him. Sadly, he was unpunishable but I'm still going to destroy that fucking fake-news bird's headquarter. P.S. marimo is insufferable and it's a matter of time when I decide to end him. I hope you all don't mind his absence.'_

"Well, at least, there is still a party and I haven't yet lost my bet to Nami. A win, right?" Usopp shook his head after reading the second letter. He genuinely didn't mind to lose his money to Nami if that meant the 'couple' he had long rooted for finally realized their feeling for the other.

At Reverse Mountain, Brook was still optimistic. "A celebration is a celebration! I'll put all my heart in composing the most jovial music for Sanji-san's restaurant's anniversary. If it's important to Sanji-san, it's important to me!"

Laboon cried as if to ask the skeleton about the songs he'd composed for the wedding in the past three days. Brook gently patted his scarred head; the doodle drawing of the Strawhat's Jolly Roger on the whale's head was still bright like it was painted yesterday. It may look like it came naturally for Brook to accept things the way they were, not how he wanted them to be. But, that was because he had lived the longest and had years of practicing to live with disappointments. 

"Sanji-san and Zoro-san are still young, they still have so much time to discover their happiness and I will still be alive to see the eventual wedding because I'm already dead and living, yohohoho!"

 

The other Strawhats' disappointment had subsided as the day moved forward, and they began to feel a thrill of anticipation. It might not be the kind of celebration they hoped for but the prospect of seeing everyone together again was more than enough to make up for their previously dimmed joy. Franky and Usopp started talking with each other over the den-den Mushi every day about the gifts they wanted to build for Sanji and Zoro. Franky was going to send his newest invention's blueprint to Syrup Village for Usopp. The moment when he was tying the letter on the messenger bird, he realized they were being silly. Franky told everyone to come staying in Water Seven so they could sail to All Blue together on the Sunny like the good old time.

Besides Luffy who had probably wrecked havocs somewhere only gods knew, everyone had shortly gathered at the Franky House. The first night that they all had arrived, Nami decided to throw a small party to celebrate their little reunion. Seeing how they perfectly fell back into their old dynamics made her realize how incredulous life was that it tricked her feel content from just writing to Robin, or calling Usopp once in a blue moon when she missed them all this much. 

The night messenger bird with a bundle of Sanji's letters knocked on the house's mirror amid their party.

_'Well guys, there might be a wedding???'_

_'_ "Did everyone get the same message I've just got?"

"I'm a bit confused, perhaps I've had too many drinks and I don't have eyeballs."

"I'm drunk too, Brook. Maybe I'll try to read it tomorrow."

"Let's go to bed, Chopper."

"But I'm not tired yet, Robin!"

"I think I'll need more drinks..." Nami rubbed her temples, sensing the upcoming headache that unfortunately was not from the alcohol. 

 

The next day, everyone had sobered up and ready to crack the code that was Sanji's cryptic message. And, there was the **fourth letter,** arrived just before the dawn.

_'Please disregard the latest letter. It's complicated.'_

Even Robin was lost and she read _Poneglyph._

"I think I've lost a significant amount of confidence in my translating skill," Robin admitted with a fainted smile that showed she was actually amused than upset. Chopper still tried to make her feel better by going to sit on her lap and give a word of encouragement, "It's not your fault, Robin! Sanji is bad at communication."

"Thank you, Chopper."

"You are right, Chopper," Nami said in a definite tone and picked up a den-den Mushi. "If he insists on not giving a straight answer tonight, I'm so gonna increase his debt to the point he'd go bankrupt."

 

73.

_Ring, Ring._

Sanji paused from reading a book to look at the ringing snail phone on his nightstand. Zoro poked his head through the bathroom door to yell the obvious.

"Cook, the phone is ringing!"

"I'm not deaf!" Sanji glowered back from the bed, putting down his book and placing his reading glasses back in their case. "Don't forget to wash behind your ears!"

Zoro scoffed as if the concept of personal hygiene personally insulted his swordsmanship. He looked ridiculously like a petulant stinky five-year-old -- that if a five-year-old had green stubbles. Marimo was leaning on the ugly side of the kid spectrum. 

"We have the deal, stick to it. If I find any part of your body is untouched by water, you will not sleep on my bed, and I will not let you borrow my razor."

"Then, I'll shave with my sword."

Sanji was torn between getting out of his warm blanket to drown marimo in the bathtub and picking up the phone. Whoever was calling him at this late hour was quite persistent, it might be something important. Sanji decided he should not be rude by keeping them wait any longer. 

"Go ahead, cut your throat and be quiet. I'm on the phone. Hello, Sanji's speakin-"

Zoro chose the moment that Sanji picked up the phone to slam the bathroom door shut. _Son of a bitch._

"One minute, dear," Sanji apologized to the person on the line who had yet said anything, covered the snail's eyes, and yelled at the door, "Don't just water your green lawn, be generous with soap!"

He heard something small hit the door, probably a bar of soap. Feeling slightly better, Sanji went back to the phone.

"So, where did we leave off -"

He didn't have a chance to finish what he was going to say when the angelic angry voice of his beloved Nami-san greeted him.

"Sanji-Kun, the truth."

The goddess left no room for a weak mortal's excuse, as always.

Sanji sweated. 

 

Sanji had run over any plans and prayers he could think of to avoid the outcome he wanted to avoid the most: his sea goddess's wrath. Her voice was so stern and cold, it sent a chill to his bone. Where was the mosshead when he did actually need him? Right, in the bathroom. Sanji might be the one who kicked him in there in the first place; what a shitty timing. Had he known his Nami-san would call him tonight, he would have kept marimo around for mental support. Technically, Zoro wouldn't be of any use, in fact, he would likely say something stupid which further infuriated Nami-san and doomed them both with debt. But Sanji was desperate for anything that could divert Nami-san's attention away from him.

"Umm, nice to hear your angelic voice again, Nami-san!"

"I didn't _know_ that Zoro is in your room. We will definitely get back to that later but first, Sanji-Kun -- your letters have confused us. You, of all people, should know that dresses for attending a wedding and for other occasions are _very_ different. We've waited for you to eventually tell us but I have only 6 days left to find the dress for your _undecided_ ceremony. Don't you think the explanation is due?"

"Well, when you phrased it that way, I think you are right. You are always right, Nami-san! But, umm, it's a long story. I don't want to bore you."

"We have time."

"'We'?"

"Yes, Robin and Usopp are with me right now, but everyone is already in Water Seven. We are preparing to go see you and Zoro in All Blue together."

"Good evening, cook-san."

"Yo, Sanji. Chopper and Franky are giving Brook a tour. The last time he visited Water Seven was like fifty years ago. Franky is taking him to see Kokoro-san but Brook is tricked to believe she was a beautiful mermaid!"

Sanji laughed. His heart filled with wordless joy just from hearing the long-nosed sniper and the beautiful archaeologist. He wished he could see that perverted skeleton's reaction to Kokoro-san. His smile quickly dimmed with guilt when he was reminded that everyone had come together for him. He had been so caught up with the emotions. The past few weeks were overwhelming but it was never an excuse for him to ignore his nakamas.  

"Sanji-Kun..." Nami took over the phone again. Her voice softened. She was intuitive and always a further step ahead in predicting everything, from the weather to her friend's feeling.

"We want you to be happy and we want to celebrate with you, but to do that we need to know what has happened to you and Zoro; we want to help. I know this is intrusive of me to pry into what you might not be comfortable to share-"

"No, no. I'm willing to share. Honestly. But how do I start..." Sanji pinched his nose in frustration. He did mean what he had just said. But, even he wanted to open up to his nakamas about his new relationship with Zoro, he still had no idea how to sum it up. A little mountain of crumbled letters in his office was a great reminder of his struggle and resignation to put it into words.

"You could try to start in chronological order," Nami advised practically. Sanji leaned his back on the pillow, trying to give himself a comfortable position as he knew this would be a long talk. In the background, he heard the sound of water running which was a good sign that marimo was keeping the promise. Life was unfair and unkind to him. The mosshead was chilling in a bathtub with Sanji's rubber duck while Sanji was being tasked to explain to Nami-san about the shitty mess of their relationship that got started off by the fucking piece of fake news. 

"Well, the news was indeed a lie, completely made up by the newsmonger bird. I had been planning for my restaurant's 5th-year anniversary and I had no idea from where that rumor originated. And, my old man had to, pardon my rudeness, be the asshole and added the fuel to the fire-"

Nami refrained from commenting that she might know who was the fist rumor mill but she didn't want to interrupt Sanji's train of thought. Besides, killing his own captain wouldn't change anything.

"-And since then, my nakamaship with the mosshead has become complicated. It went downhill, then uphill, and downhill again in a short span of weeks. It's really awkward and complicated. Have I mentioned complicated?"

"You did. Three times."

"Right, it's really complicated. As I told you before, it's quite a long story. I'm afraid I'd be wasting your tim-"

"I don't mind. By the end of this call, I want to know _exactly_ what's kind of the celebration I am to attend," the navigator said firmly. "Tell me everything, Sanji-Kun. But, if it would make you feel better, I will charge for my service for listening to your love story. 10,000 berries per minute."

"you are a monster, Nami!" Usopp's cry could be heard on the other side but all Sanji could hear was Nami-san said his _love story_.

Her wording was distracting and Sanji found it hard to concentrate; his face couldn't stop glowing hot for no reason. Sanji had a sudden urge to cloak himself in invisibility because he felt too _exposed._ But, he had promised himself to never use that Germa's technology again so the cook resorted into hiding his flustered face under the pillow which kinda smelled like marimo.

Because it was the mosshead's pillow. The one he had slept on whenever he stayed the night. Fuck. 

"Nami-san, love is quite a strong word," Sanji murmured weakly to the mattress.

"You are going to marry someone and you say _love_ is a strong word?"

Sanji felt like he was dying.

"...Yes?" He answered, unsure and completely dried up. "I'm not used to it. Everything has gone too fast..."

For the man who had shamelessly spilled the same word to annoy the hell out of her and other women to become such a bashful virgin all a sudden, Nami was indecisive if she wanted to laugh at him or bash his head, probably both.

"Don't play shy, I'm still charging you for my service."

"Thank you, I'm feeling much better knowing that I can compensate you for kindly lending an ear to hear my plight."

Sanji said and had all the intention to pay Nami-san. He was a successful entrepreneur and his beautiful goddess deserved all of his wealth. 

"I'm speechless." Usopp would never understand the mind of the rich. 

"Don't mind the poor, Sanji-Kun. Continue."

"...I never completely comprehend how his brain works. When we learned about the news, he... asked me to marry him. It was weird right, Nami-san? I mean, we have been nakamas for over a decade, then he suddenly came up with some sort of self-realization overnight and decided to confess to me! It was the most horrible confession in the history of love confessions, in fact, I don't even want to recognize it as a love confession," ranted Sanji but still clutched onto Zoro's pillow. "Needless to say, I was unprepared. It was so out of the blue. I mean, since when Zoro had shown any signs of being romantically interested in any life forms -- let's alone, me. He totally caught me off guard."

"Right, there is no sign at all," Nami couldn't resist rolling her eyes. Sanji didn't catch on her sarcasm. 

"We decided to try dating like seven weeks ago but marimo has been fixated on getting married. I mean, we have just become boyfriends like last week, everything is still new. He thinks so little about marital life-" Zoro chose it to be the right moment to walk out of the bathroom and Sanji's breath hitched. The swordsman was dripping wet, with only a towel tied loosely around his hip. It pained Sanji's soul to admit it but Zoro did have a _nice_ body, muscular and bronze-skinned. Almost like he was forged by the hand of gods, to be the epitome of beauty that mankind should strive to achieve.

"-I don't think he thinks at all!" Sanji shouted to silent the lewd thought. Sanji's mind had been straying to that treacherous path again. He rather cut his own manhood than getting a boner while Nami-san was on the phone. 

Zoro immediately turned to glare at him, angrily drying his head with another towel. From his impatient manner, it seemed marimo wasn't going to let his hair completely dry and was also likely to get dressed when he was still wet. Again. Sanji shook his head but the moment like this always comforted him -- that Zoro was still a flawed human. And Sanji could have a chance to be with him.

"Hang on a minute, Nami-san."

Hiding his secret smile, the cook beckon his swordsman to come to sit by the bed. Zoro narrowed his eye in suspicion but complied. The cook sat straight and let his legs hanging over the side of the bed. The snail phone cradled against his shoulder, Sanji took the towel from the swordsman's hand and started drying his hair, gently massaging into his scape. Zoro closed his eye and let out a low purr of contentment. His green lawn smelled like a lemongrass-scented bathing gel because marimo mistook it for shampoo again. 

"Wait, is Zoro purring?" Nami asked.

Zoro reopened his eye, "I'm not going to speak to the sea witch."

"Hey! At least, try pretending to be happy to hear me, you idiot."

"Ignore him, Nami-san! He is being a manchild. Even a five-year-old knows better than to sleep on the bed when his head is still wet."

"It's not like I'm going to catch a cold. I'm not weak."

"I'm well informed that a madman never gets sick. I'm more worried about molds on my pillowcase."

Sanji dutifully finished the drying and nudged the man's back with his foot. "Go get dressed. I'm going to talk to my sweet beautiful goddess!"

Zoro frowned and refused to budge. He had wrapped his arm around Sanji's leg and began to brutally assault it with kisses. Sanji gasped in surprise.

"Ah! Shit! You bastard! Stop it," Sanji hissed in his lowest voice.

He forgot that the phone was right next to his mouth.

 

'Idiots.' Nami thought, wishing someone would someday invent the phone that would let her beat the hell out of some lovestruck fools in real-time. She didn't ask for them to for the _demonstration_ and she didn't deserve this mental torture.

And, Sanji-Kun had the audacity to claim that their relationship was _new_. Totally going to increase his debt for lying.

Usopp looked like he was going to faint from just hearing his friends making out. Nami went to get some drinks for him and herself.

Robin gladly took over the phone.

"Cook-san, if you are concerned about married life, I think you two have gained enough experience from pre-marriage living together. Objectively speaking, you are more than ready to get married."

"Wait. What! We have never practiced pre-marriage living together, Robin-chan!"

"Could fool me," Nami said dryly, sipping her gin.

"Cook-san. We might not talk to each other very often but I've read your letters for five years. Swordsman-san sleeps in your room, takes you shopping, eats with you and gives you gifts long before you two have officially dated," the archaeologist listed matter-of-factly.

Sanji felt like he was having an episode of existential crisis; his reality was breaking apart.

Zoro had much calmer self-realization. "It makes sense."

Sanji tried to get his leg out of the menace's iron grip to no avail. 

"Shut up! You said you don't want to partake in the conversation, so you shut your mouth!" 

"Who gives you the right to dictate my action!"

"Are you two going to get married or not?" Nami asked bluntly. 

Sanji looked into Zoro's eye just to confirm that marimo was on the same page with him. "Well, yes-"

"-But, on one condition," Zoro finished.

 

74.

The night that they fought over who was going to be the one to propose, Zoro's room got absolutely trashed. Broken glass pieces, torn fabrics, a pile of dust that was once Zoro's bed, and big charred holes on the wooden floor, courtesy of the cook. Sanji had retreated back to his lair and Zoro suddenly realized that his room was too wrecked to sleep in.

The swordsman stomped off to the cook's room and banged the door. The cook lammed it open and yelled at him in anger.

"I don't want to see your face, right now! Go the fuck back to your room!" 

"Do you think I want to fucking see your face? I cannot sleep in my room!" 

Sanji attempted to shut the door but Zoro had already wedged it open with his foot. The cook kept yanking the door's handle on his side with frustration.

"Do you think I care!?"

"Let me in or I'll destroy your room!"

Sanji gritted his teeth but let go of his hand. He reluctantly stepped aside to let the shitty swordsman get in. He knew firsthand how destructive Zoro could be and didn't want to risk his room taking damage from marimo's rampage. 

They prepared to go to sleep in silence. Sanji put a side pillow in the middle of the bed so he didn't have to see the infuriating face of the person sleeping on the other side of it. Zoro had turned his back on him but still, Sanji stood by his point. He didn't want the unpleasant sight of anything green. 

 

Sanji's rest was doomed. There was too much lingering anger in his system; he was too worked up to sleep. His mind kept returning to their previous fight and the challenge which he had no idea how the hell they ended up with this fucking dilemma. Was a wedding preparation supposed to be this stressful? Seriously, hadn't Sanji been busy enough? There were hundreds of things waiting for him to address, now that his restaurant's anniversary took a 360-degree whip-around to his own wedding. He needed to cancel his last order for flowers because they couldn't use the color scheme palette of the anniversary for his **wedding**. He needed to decide on a new one and finalize everything before telling his nakamas.

Oh, and now he had to do all of those things he had mentioned above while trying to avoid Zoro's proposal ambush. And who the hell would be the judge to decide the winner, anyway? Sanji was definitely not planning to say yes because it'd mean he lost to Zoro. He doubted marimo would agree to marry without a fight too. But, if there was no winner, they couldn't get married and the wedding ceremony that he had slaved away for months would be for naught and a big embarrassment of the century.  Sanji's eyes were bloodshot and wide open in the dark. The prospect of threats to his wedding made him about to go hyperventilate. 

Sanji decided to give a reassuring speech to himself. "I will win even if I have to kill him and put a ring on his corpse's cold finger."

Darkness replied back in marimo's annoyingly cocksure voice. “You could never put a ring on my finger.”

Sanji was going to kick the side pillow along with the man on the other side out of his bed when a light bulb went off in his head. 

"I don't want to speak to you right now but this is important. Hear me out--"

When he was done talking, the side pillow was lifted off. Zoro's eye was glowing in the dark, staring at him in disbelief.

Sanji frowned, "Put the pillow down, I'm still mad at you."

"Are you sure you want to do it this way?" 

Zoro asked and Sanji knew what he was thinking. Zoro might have expected Sanji to want their wedding to be perfectly planned, elegant and dreamlike. The two lovers in white, sharing the promise of eternal love at the altar. The sweet fragrance of rose petals and cakes. Sanji had a taste of something like that before in the sweetest island. The true color of the fairytale wedding that was nothing but bitterness. Freedom getting stripped away from the couple. 

"There will still be a party and food. And, I want it to be impeccably perfect. But, I want this to be done in our way."

It might sound like he suggested the plan on a sudden impulse but it definitely wasn't out of desperation. Zoro looked intensely into Sanji's eyes and let out a deep chuckle.

"How could I refuse the invitation to kick your ass? Fine, I accept the challenge."

"Good."

"Let's settle it once and for all," they said in unison.

 

75.

"They are cursed with idiocy. And, it is incurable. Not even Chopper could find a cure to this disease," Nami wrapped up after recalling the conversation with Sanji and Zoro to the other Strawhats who missed the last night's phone call. 

"Well, you are not the one they are asking for a favor," Usopp said, still trying to wrap his head around Sanji and Zoro's request. "But on the bright side, I don't have to think of the gifts to give them."

 

 _Usopp had been content himself with just listening to Nami berating the monster duo after hearing the whole story of their 'conditional' wedding. Nami's screech made Usopp focus on keeping the redhead's glass refilled so she wouldn't get_ _a sore throat from yelling too much._

 _Usopp was quite surprised when both of them asked to speak with him after the big lecture they had just received from Nami._ _It turned out that they had planned to call him for a favor today if Nami hadn't called them first._

_Usopp heard out their request. Nami inched to take over the phone and yell at them again. Robin patted the navigator's shoulder consolingly._

_Usopp asked for clarification. "Umm, just to make sure that I've got it right. Are you guys sure that is a marriage proposal?"_

_"It's the only way that we can wed without me murdering the mosshead at the alter," Sanji reaffirmed. Usopp grimaced, "Yup. Gonna pretend not to hear another combative term used in the ceremony of love. But yeah, it sounds like something Zoro would want to do but I never expected you to be totally on board with it."_

_"Oi, what do you mean by that, Usopp?!"_

_"He means a sappy prince like you should be into some sorts of boring fairytale weddings." Usopp heard the swordsman's yawn. Obnoxiously loud. With the intention to piss the person right next to him._

_"Rephrase! I was trying to say, ugh, I mean like you always have a taste for classic stuff? So, I thought..."_

_Sanji completely ignored Usopp and went for Zoro's blood._

_"If I'm into fairytales, I would fucking wed a princess, not a castle guard."_

_Usopp had listened for ten full minutes of their bickering._

_Somehow his little doubt about the feasibility of their wedding disappeared. The sniper_ _cleared his throat and said with a grin, "a_ _bout the rings, I'd gladly take the job, just send the materials to me."_

_"Hey, thanks a lot, Usopp," Sanji said sincerely._

_Usopp rubbed his nose, " It's my highest honor."_

 

The plan was insane. Too reckless. Too heretical even for pirates. But, wouldn't it befit the marriage of the two monsters? Usopp had already known for a fact that whatever was going to happen on that wedding day would go down in history.

"I think Luffy-san would love to officiate this kind of union," Brook pointed out. Everyone nodded in agreement.

"How did they come up with this idea. It's pretty cool even though I don't think I'll try it myself," Franky wondered.

Nami snorted. "Likely from beating the shit out of each other-"

"-On the bed," finished Robin with a mischievous smile, taking pleasure in watching her friends turned green.

"Yuck! Nico-Robin, I don't need that image of my bros doing the deed in my head!"

Chopper frowned; confusion was clearly written on his face. The reindeer hated when he couldn't follow up with his friends' human jokes and pouted, "I don't understand, Usopp."

"I wish I were you, Chopper," Usopp looked traumatized.

"Anyway, did you ask Sanji for me about the flower holding position?"

"I don't think they would need a flower boy...Hey, don't pout - you'll be having the most important role in the wedding!"

"Really!? What is it? Tell me!"

"A doctor."

"...What?"

 

76.

The fast-track messenger bird had been waiting in Sanji's office for two hours and looked clearly unhappy. It was told to come by noon to receive a parcel and deliver it to Water Seven on the same day. It was on time but it had to wait for one of the customers who didn't know the concept of punctuality. And mind you, Grandline was far far away from All Blue.

Sanji tried to pacify the bird by giving it some breadcrumbs which it reluctantly took. The head chef almost rang his staff at the downstairs to locate the problematic lost child when the man finally showed up. Sanji heaved out a sigh of relief and flashed him a sly grin.

"Have you been struggled to find something to send to Usopp to forge my ring? The last time I checked, you don't have any possession," Taunted the cook, "I don't do cheap stuff, you know."

"Fuck you. The stairs moved. I already have what I need," the swordsman bared his teeth at the cook and took off-- his three golden earrings.

...

...

Zoro took off his three golden earrings that as far as Sanji remembered, had been the part of the swordsman's life, and placed them on his desk. His stoic face was void of remorse as ever. 

Sanji looked at the shinning earrings, lost for words. Zoro frowned at the cook's stunned face, taking it that he wasn't satisfied with the quality of a wedding ring made from the earrings.

"What? They would be enough to make a ring for your scrawny finger, and they are real gold."

Sanji looked at Zoro and knew it would take time for him to stop noticing the absence of the three earrings, their soft chiming when Zoro moved, their weight and their cool touch when he brushed his hand against them. Sanji felt like he cared for Zoro's stuff more than the man himself. 

The bird tapped its webbed claw on the window sill in annoyance, urging them to hurry.

The cook looked away from Zoro's gaze and pulled out a small box from his drawer. He put Zoro's earrings in the box before placing it in the parcel. The bird took it and flew away. Zoro didn't get the chance to see what was on the inside. "What's in there?"

The cook let out a melancholic smile, soft and vulnerable. It had stayed just for a brief moment. In the blink of an eye, it was gone and been replaced with a confident grin. "The past that I want to turn into my future."

 

The wedding day was approaching. At dusk, the parcel had arrived at Franky House's doorstep and Usopp set for Franky's workshop. No one was in there but him. Franky had been working with his own wedding gift project for Sanji and Zoro at the dockyard. The shipwright had rarely slept in the Franky House as they were competing against the deadline. Usopp also planned on not leaving the workshop until the rings were finished. Those idiots and their emotional constipation had given him such a short amount of time to work with. Usopp thought of them and their still missing captain. Those monsters and their unbelievable demands that always pushed a mortal like him to surpass his limit.

"What did they send to you for making the wedding rings?" Nami poked her head round the door and asked with a curious look on her face.

"In that small box." Usopp pointed his finger at the box on a drawing table while trying to prepare a furnace. "If my old measurements of their fingers are still accurate, they would make a perfect pair of wedding rings just right."

Nami let herself in the workshop, trying to avoid stepping on some blueprints. The ground was messy. "Since when did you have their measurements?" 

"I helped redesign Sanji's raid suit. And, got myself a front-row view of Zoro's hand when I became his sword...after he proposed to cut my hand."

"...Sorry for triggering your traumatic experience," Nami offered her apathetic condolences.

"Are you bored or something? You never come to the workshop."

"I like jewelry," the navigator offered simply. Usopp knew there were more but didn't comment. Nami was thankful for his consideration. She just wanted to see --the making of the special kind of jewelry. The kind that a woman who had lived a life like her could never possess. 

"I can make a set for you, you know, one day," the sniper said. Nami smiled at Usopp and opened the box.

She gasped.

There were Zoro's three-piece earrings and,

...A broken piece of the golden bracelets that Sanji-Kun was forced to wear by his estranged 'family'.

 

77.

Sanji didn't ask Zoro for why did he give away the earrings and Zoro hadn't brought up the mysterious object in the box they had sent to Usopp. They both knew the other had a reason and they would learn everything on the wedding day. Now, there were still many small but important things to attend. Sanji summoned one of his staff and asked him to go fetch the lazy boyfriend. This was no longer the planning for the anniversary, Zoro could not play a freeloader if he wanted to get married. He had to fucking use his brain to help Sanji decide things for _their_ wedding.

Zoro wasn't happy that he had to give up on his afternoon nap to help Sanji _"pick some color nonsense again."_

"Again?" Zoro plopped himself on the couch, preparing to go back to sleep. "We already did it. Why do you want to go over it again?"

Sanji slapped his hand angrily on a thick volume of the wedding palette collection. "That was for the anniversary! This **is** for the wedding!"

"What is wrong with the previous one, just use it for the wedding!" Zoro didn't try to understand.

"The previous color palette was blue-toned. We need a new one that represents both you and me, idiots!"

"Why can I not use the blue one I chose last time?"

"Your hair is green," Sanji stated matter-factly.

Zoro sat up and stared him down. "What does it have to do with my hair color? Wait, don't tell me you are assigning me a green-color scheme because of my hair?" The look on the cook's face told him much. The swordsman scoffed. "I don't even like green!"

Sanji blinked in confusion. "W..what?"

"Do people born with black hair have to like black?" 

"Don't be a smart ass, you wear green. All the time."

"I didn't pick the color, I picked the clothes. Can't I have blue?"

"Blue has been taken by me and Franky."

Zoro crossed his chest stubbornly. "I want blue."

"Now, you want blue just to piss me off..." Sanji sighed, "fine, which tone do you want your blue to be?"

Zoro sweated.

In the end, they finally settled on the blue tone of Zoro's old favorite undershirt when they had an adventure on the sky island.

 

Zeff came back from his vacation. The staff received the order to sail the floating restaurant to Marimo Island where the ceremony was going to be held. The main reason was that the wedding cake was too huge that the biggest table they had couldn't handle its weight. During the time until the wedding day, the couple had more fight overs small things that Zoro found unimportant and Sanji would get a dark thought to just smother his boyfriend with a pillow.

 

78.

The night before the wedding, the famous lion-headed ship had arrived. The islanders and pirates cheered on the legendary crew and the Pirate King himself.

"Zoro! Sanji! Where is the cake!?" The Pirate King demanded and got beaten immediately by the navigator who was still furious that she had to track Luffy down and drag him to his own nakamas' wedding because the idiot didn't have the concept of time. 

Usopp walked to the couple and handed them two boxes that contained their wedding rings.

Chopper was tugging both the swordsman and the cook's shirts, "Don't kill each other tomorrow, okay?"

Zoro looked at Sanji. They both shared secret laughter with each other. 

 

79.

“You look decent with stubbles, you know," said Sanji as he was methodically stropping the razor on the leather hooked to the bathroom's wall. Zoro sat on the chair with his eye closed and patiently waiting to get his face shaved. Today was the day.

“I don’t want to bother taking care of them. It’s annoying."

“It doesn't actually take much time," Sanji pointed out.

“You spend hours trimming your goatee.”

“Unlike someone I have the unfortunate of knowing, I'm not a slob and I represent this establishment.”

“You are marrying the slob,” Zoro smirked, "today."

Sanji sprayed the shaving foam into the swordsman's mouth in retaliation. "Oops. Don't worry, it's organic!"

Zoro spat it back on the cook's face almost instantly. "Take it. Still, organic."

Sanji angrily wiped his face with a clean towel and turned to glare back at the swordsman. "If this isn't my favorite straight razor with an ivory handle, I'll slit your throat with it."

"Save your energy, curly. So when you lose to me, you could say you give your best," Zoro's condescending mockery almost made Sanji want to say screw the wedding and strangle him with the strop.

"Since Little Garden, think," Zoro casually mentioned."Our matches have always been interrupted." 

Sanji recalled the humid climate of the prehistoric forest, the slain dinosaurs and the two teenagers on their very first fight. "Quiet and let me work. You are going down in defeat today, at least, you will have a nice look."

 

The place was the coastline of Marimo Island's cliffed coast. Zoro discovered it by accident and had made use of it during the first few years until the island's inhabitants decided to build a proper stadium for him. During the day, the seawater fell to its low tide, revealing the sandy seashore, a natural battle ring, that would remain until sunset when the water would be rising again.

The plan was simple.

Their friends would be waiting on the Sunny in the open water. Sanji and Zoro would go the seashore to battle until one of them could put their ring on the other's ring finger before the place was flooded, then get back to the Sunny to let Luffy officiate the marriage, attend the night party, cut the cake and celebrate their marital union.

Chopper sat on Franky's shoulder, cradling a first-aid kit in his hand and watching Sanji and Zoro wading the shallow water to the beach.

"This is not what I read in the books," grumbled the reindeer. Robin sprouted up her hand from Franky's back and patted the reindeer in distress.

Brook played battle-theme music with his violin to get everyone pumped up. Robin politely but firmly asked him to change his song into something more _relaxing._  

Luffy had many questions. "Why I don't get to fight with them? It looks fun! Why we have to wait so long for the cake?"

"You will do what I tell you to, Luffy!" Nami pinched her captain's cheek. Usopp nervously tapped her shoulder. "Why I'm seeing _many_ ships coming in this direction?"

Nami was about to get binoculars from Usopp's hand to look for the ships when she heard the earth-crackling sound of the cliff's rocks tumbling downhill to the sea. The fight already had begun.

 

80.

They were changing the landscape of the island.

Sanji found his movements on land got confined by the piles of rocks and boulders Zoro kept cutting off from the cliff. Every swing from his swords, big chunks of rocks slid off some were turned into small pieces of debris by Sanji's kicks. They didn't hold back. It would foolish to do.

It would also be foolish of Zoro to think he could corner the man who could **fly**.

Zoro sidestepped Sanji's diving attack by a hair's breadth. The swordsman looked back to the ground he just stood a few minutes ago; it had become a pool of molten glass. That's right. The energy released from the cook's Hell Memories alone was enough to melt rocks and sand into _glass._

Zoro's swords were singing in bloodthirsty delight. The cook took a leisurely drag of his cigarette, watching the swords turn black. "Will the fancy black swords have new fancy moves? I'm starting to get bored, you know." 

Zoro looked up at the glorious man standing in the sky above his head and out of his reach.

"I'll chop you down," Zoro promised. _I'll take you down from the heavens and make you mine._

 

When they were fighting, the rings and everything else had been forgotten. The sun was setting and the tide was rising. Zoro had put his two of his swords on the tallest rock to avoid the seawater about an hour ago. He kept Wado tied to his sash and fought with his fists. Sanji also didn't have enough strength left on his body to keep himself afloat or on fire. He was fighting but with his feet. Dodge, parry, and counter Zoro's attacks.

Their bodies were bloody, bruised and soaking in sweat. The seawater level was rising to their legs. Their movements had been hindered by its mass, not to say that their feet were blue and wrinkly. This fight was drawing close.

Sanji felt his pants' pocket for the ring box. Thank his tight pants, it was still there. "Anything you want me to know before getting defeated, shitty swordsman?"

Zoro snorted. He, too, pulled out the ring box from his haramaki, and opened it for Sanji to see for the first time. The ring was a plain gold band of the same color of the earrings. Sanji was reminded again that Zoro had not worn any earrings anymore. The swordsman's eyes followed the cook's lingering gaze and touched his own left ear, looking self-conscious and _nervous._

"I don't remember why I decided to get my ear pierced, or how I got the earrings, or why it'd gotta be three. Maybe it was my lucky number or a forecast of my destiny." Zoro shrugged. The cyclical destiny was the best description of Zoro's life. As if he was destined to fight in endless battles until he died. Defeated. Overcome. Triumph. Until his last breath. "Nothing stays. Victories come and go. By the end of the day, I'm still a man who has got nothing. I have given up on my wealth and thrown away memorable trinkets like they have no worth just to distance myself from attachments." He was a teen who courted death for the glory and a young man who was ready to die for his friends. A dead man walking.

"The earrings were the last possession of this old life of mine," Zoro smiled, "I've traded it for a final chance. To win my last victory and keep him with me until the day I draw my last breath. You."

Today, Roronoa Zoro was finally free from the burden of fate. After today, he would keep on fighting, and one day he would be surpassed by a new wave of swordsmen. None of those fights would matter to his pride nor his joy. Because Sanji was Zoro's last victory. 

Sanji listened. Appreciated. He still didn't know what he'd done to deserve Zoro. The man before him was large than life and he was standing there, with his heart bare and his ring box open, determining to keep loving him.

He had to respond in kind and stop being a coward. The cook opened his own box and looked at the ring of the same design, gold but paler. 

"It is made from a broken piece of the fake explosive bracelets," Sanji answered the question Zoro asked days ago. "It's an analogy of my life. I always hate this weak part of me that has been imprisoned in my childhood nightmare. Powerless. Bad decisions." He closed his eyes, trying to shake away the painful flashbacks. "I couldn't bear the sight of it but I couldn't just leave it behind. I've kept it hidden in the drawer."

Sanji remembered him picking up the broken piece of the bracelets and stuffed it in his pocket and later hid it in his drawer, locked away in the hope that he could completely forget its existence. "I never want to see it again," he confessed. "But because of you, I realized that I could turn it into something pretty. And if it is on your finger, I'd gladly look at it every day for the rest of my life."

They looked at each other with the same determined look.

Zoro unsheathed Wado. Sanji stood in surprise; the wind from the white sword's slash was too gentle to cut his flesh, yet too powerful, it split the waters apart. While the sea has been parted, Sanji saw the path. He began to run toward Zoro, flame lighting on his legs. Both of them broke into a smile.

"Give all of you to me, Sanji!"

"Eat dust, Zoro!" 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Excuse my English.


End file.
